


Reconstruction

by BringingGeekyBack



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Christmas Fluff, F/F, Fluff, POV Third Person Limited, Roommates, all the cliches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-13
Updated: 2016-09-05
Packaged: 2018-08-08 13:20:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 44,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7759327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BringingGeekyBack/pseuds/BringingGeekyBack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fearing Carmilla has nowhere to spend the Christmas holiday, Laura invites her to spend the break with her and her dad, despite the fact that they're not friends. Fluff and cliches ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Roommate

**Author's Note:**

> I decided to write my wife a Carmilla one-shot for her birthday in December (hence the Christmas setting), even though I'd never seen it, because she loves it so much. Two things happened: I ended becoming a massive Carmilla fan and that one-shot I'd planned on writing turned into a fairly long story, which I didn't finish it until last week. Oops. Anyway, she wanted me to post it, and since it's her very belated birthday gift I'm granting her wish. I hope you enjoy it. It's finished, so expect frequent updates.

"Something's bothering you," her dad said from the other side of the table. "You've barely touched your sundae, and I happen to know Jim Dandy is the only man you'll ever date."

Laura dipped her spoon into the quickly melting ice cream in front of her, but she did manage an ever-so light huff-laugh, the kind of laugh that's provided when it's understood a laugh is required, but the joke isn't that funny.  
  
"So what's wrong, sweetie? You're usually not talking at Friendly's because you're too busy eating your ice cream before it melts, but this not talking while your sundae sits mostly untouched in front of you is starting to freak me out."  
  
Laura dipped her spoon back into the ice cream in front of her, but she immediately put the spoon down again and sighed.  
  
"Sorry, dad," she said. "I guess I'm just thinking about Carmilla and how she's going to be all alone over the break."  
  
"Carmilla? Your roommate Carmilla?" he asked, a little shocked. He'd only ever heard Laura complain about her roommate. "I didn't think you two were particularly close," he said, hoping to understand Laura's concern.  
  
Laura's face bunched up in the way it had since she was a little girl. It was the face she made right after being told to go to bed or when she'd be cut off from the cookie jar or when, god forbid, he asked her to turn off _Dr_. _Who_ and go do homework. "We're not," she confirmed. "We barely even speak, but it's Christmas, and no one should be alone for Christmas."  
  
"What about her family?" her dad asked.  
  
"I don't think they're close. I mean, she never talks about them. And I may have eavesdropped on her talking to her mom, or rather her stepmom, and it didn't sound good."  
  
"You eavesdropped?" he asked, surprised.  
  
"I was on my bed doing homework. It's not my fault she chose that moment to have a fight over the phone," she explained. "It's not like I could concentrate on my reading for all the yelling."  
  
Bill Hollis smiled and shook his head. "Okay, then," he began, "I'm assuming you're asking me in your roundabout way if you can invite her to join us?" He knew his daughter better than anyone, and he knew she would feel bad all holiday if she didn't at least try to include Carmilla. She'd done this sort of thing her whole life. In kindergarten she was chosen to be the teacher's special helper for the day, an honor desired by every kid in the class and earned by some distinction, either academic or exemplary character or anything else the teacher wanted to praise. One of the perks of being special helper was the student was allowed to pick someone else from the class to help them. Laura chose Lupe, a quiet girl who the other kids tended to ignore, mostly because she didn't speak much English. When he'd asked her why she picked Lupe, since they weren't, to his knowledge, friends, she replied: "Lupe hasn't been picked yet. I thought she'd like it." Then there was the time in 6th grade when she found a litter of orphaned kittens behind the shed that she insisted they nurse to health. He only let her keep one of the kittens, even if she'd put together a full presentation of why they should keep all four kittens. And when Andy Sawyer, a really great kid with Down's syndrome, asked her to the homecoming dance her freshman year, she didn't hesitate in answering yes, despite the fact that she didn't want to go to the dance in the first place. But Laura was always doing little things like that—championing the disenfranchised—and he was proud he helped raise such an amazing and giving person.  
  
"I doubt she'll come," she said sadly, bringing his attention back to the Carmilla dilemma. "We're not exactly friends and I'm not even sure she likes me, but, I just-It's Christmas and she's basically all alone, and I-I want to try."  
  
Bill smiled at his daughter to convey his understanding. "I'm happy to have someone else join us. The more the Merrier Christmas."  
  
Laura rolled her eyes, but at least she was smiling again. "You know, dad, I really don't miss all your dad jokes, but thanks," she said and then finally attacked her sundae as was normal for her.

  
  
She didn't broach the subject with Carmilla until a week after her dad's Thanksgiving visit. She'd been thinking about it all week and avoiding it for just as long. The truth was Carmilla wasn't her friend. They rarely even spoke, despite Laura's best efforts, and when they did, Carmilla was less than nice.  
  
In response to Laura asking why she wasn't nicer to her friends: "They're not my friends, Cupcake."  
  
After Laura questioned what had happened to the emergency package of Chips Ahoy she was saving for after her lit exam: "Why don't you ask one of your friends who's always barging in here, Lauronica Mars?"  
  
When Carmilla accidentally walked in on an almost-kiss between Laura and her TA, Danny: "You're not seriously interested in the Philistine, are you, Creampuff? She's a control freak who could literally stomp all over you. Plus, her lit analysis is shit."  
  
That time that Laura ventured too closely into the personal to ask about her family. She was only trying to make small talk to get to know the girl she was sharing a room with: "Don't try to figure me out, Lois Lane. You probably won't like what you learn."  
  
She was so frustrating. And even if she could ignore her snark and surliness, she couldn't ignore that she wasn't even good at the rest of the roommate stuff. She was actually pretty terrible. She made no effort to keep her side of the room tidy, and Laura often found a random t-shirt of sock of hers on her own bed. She borrowed Laura's things without asking, including that throw her grandmother crocheted for her right after her mom died and, weirdly, her yellow pillow. And that didn't include Laura's mysteriously diminishing cookie or grape soda supply. But worst of all, there was that time that she came into the room to find one of her many "study buddies" drinking her hot chocolate from her favorite _Dr. Who_ TARDIS mug. Carmilla had the decency to look a little ashamed and quickly removed the mug from the girl's hand, and then washed and returned the mug before leaving the room with her friend.  
  
And yet Laura kept hoping they could be friends. She couldn't shake the feeling in her gut that underneath all the sarcasm and bravado was a person worth knowing. Maybe it was because she'd never overheard a conversation with her mother that didn't leave Carmilla even broodier than normal. Maybe it was because, when it was just the two of them in the room, Carmilla wasn't completely terrible. She even, on rare occasions, asked what book Laura was reading that week in her lit class and because Carmilla had read it—she'd always somehow already read whatever Laura had to read for class—they'd discuss the reading and Carmilla helped her interpret the material in new and really helpful ways. And Laura couldn't forget how, just a few weeks ago, after she returned home drunk from a Halloween party at some frat house, Carmilla, who'd stayed home that night, took care of her as she emptied the contents of her stomach into the toilet. She'd brought her water and paracetamol and tucked her into bed and made sure when she woke up the next morning that she drank more water and took more paracetamol and then left to buy her a breakfast burrito to help with her hangover.  
  
But all that goodwill vanished just as quickly as it came. Carmilla had a way of making Laura feel ridiculous, and she seemed to know exactly what buttons to push for greatest effect. She did this to everyone, so Laura told herself again and again to not take it personally, but there was no denying that sometimes Carmilla could be a real jerk. Danny, especially, liked to remind Laura that Carmilla was just a "miserable bitch who can't tolerate any kind of goodness or happiness," but Danny, for reasons Laura still hadn't figured out, had a special hatred for her roommate, so she couldn't adopt her stance. And, as of a couple weeks ago, Danny's opinion didn't really matter anymore anyway.  
  
Strangely it was Carmilla who had been right about her lit TA all along. Danny, while gorgeous and smart, was controlling. What Laura had once thought of as chivalry—Danny's concern for her wellbeing and safety—had started to make Laura feel that Danny thought she was fragile or weak or, worst of all, stupid. And their brief flirtation (Laura wasn't even sure they had been officially dating) ended the day after that Halloween party when Danny freaked out about Laura going to the party in the first place.  
  
"Is she feeling okay?" Danny asked Perry, Laura's RA, who was rubbing light circles on Laura's back at an on-campus cafe once she and LaFontaine coaxed her out of the room around three o'clock. Laura looked rough, but thanks to Carmilla, she wasn't feeling sick, although she was tired.  
  
Laura sighed, annoyed that Danny asked Perry instead of just asking her. "I'm fine," Laura answered for Perry, taking a sip of coffee in front of her. "I'm just tired."  
  
"Laura is recovering from a wicked hangover," LaFontaine said from across the table. "We may have overdone it at the Alchemy Club's Halloween Party last night," they added. They shrugged their shoulders when Laura glared at them from across the table.  
  
"You went to the Alchemy Club's Halloween Party?" Danny asked Laura, frowning. "I thought we discussed it and decided you weren't gonna go."  
  
Laura, in no mood for any criticism or reprimands, rolled her eyes. " _We_ didn't decide anything," she said pointedly. "You told me you didn't think it was a good idea and told me I shouldn't go, but it sounded like fun. It was fun."  
  
"Laura, I—"  
  
"She came so I didn't have to go alone," LaFontaine said, interrupting what was becoming tense and awkward. "Perry had an RA thing and I went to see if Laura was free."  
  
"I don't need you to defend me, Laf," Laura said. "I went because I wanted to go. That's all. End of story."  
  
Perry stopped rubbing Laura's back, and Laura could feel her tensing up beside her.  
  
"But Laura," Danny started again, "crazy stuff happens at those Alchemy parties and—"  
  
"And what, Danny?" Laura asked, her voice louder than was appropriate for a public place. "Why aren't you lecturing LaFontaine about going to the party?"  
  
"I'm not lectur—"  
  
"No, you're making me feel like my dad's just busted me for breaking curfew and is gonna start listing the things that _might_ have gone wrong."  
  
"But I care about you and I don't want something bad to happen to you," Danny implored.  
  
"And what did you think would happen me to that couldn't also happen to LaFontaine, or anyone else at that party?" Laura asked, her anger seething inside of her.  
  
Danny was visibly shaken, but Laura had had enough. She had enough of the "text me when you get home" or the "don't stay at the library too late" and the "be careful when you go into town" or any of the other subtle commands Danny reserved for her. She knew Danny was only concerned about her, but she wasn't a little kid. She didn't need a protector, and she'd survived her first year of university without Danny, so she wasn't sure why Danny treated her like she couldn't hold her own or defend herself. Her dad made her learn Krav Maga, for Christ's sake. Laura knew she could handle herself.  
  
"You got drunk, Laura! Anything could have happened to you," Danny tried again.  
  
"Yeah, I got drunk. Just like every other college kid does. And I'm fine. LaFontaine made sure I got home safely, and then Carmilla made sure I didn't choke on my own vomit."  
  
Danny didn't say anything. Perry and LaFontaine also remained quiet, which Laura couldn't really blame them for. She took another sip of her coffee, but it had become tepid, and all she wanted was her bed.  
  
"You know, Danny," she said after she stood up and decided she was leaving. "I liked you. A lot. And the thing is, yeah, I lost my mom when I was young, but I don't need anyone to replace her." She took her scarf and began to tie it around her neck before saying, "I'm not sure what we were, but I think it's better if we're just friends." And she turned and walked away and began to cry.


	2. Invitation and Rumors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bonus second chapter to start.

Laura hadn't told Carmilla about what happened with Danny. They didn't have that kind of relationship. And if Carmilla noticed her absence from Laura's life in the month of November, she didn't say anything. But something in their dynamic changed after that Halloween party night, and Laura couldn't pinpoint exactly what had changed, but things felt different—less tense and hostile. Laura didn't dread returning to her room after class in case Carmilla was there anymore. A part of her even hoped Carmilla was there because even though they didn't have long conversations, Carmilla acknowledged her presence now. Usually it was only a quick glance at Laura with casual raise of her eyebrows. But sometimes Laura received a barely-there smile and, if she was lucky, she got a "Hey, Cupcake."  
  
They seemed to be comfortably coexisting. So Laura didn't notice it was unusual anymore if Carmilla put her book on her bed and told her she was going to go grab a noodle bowl or a burrito or a sandwich or whatever else and then offered to pick something up for her while she was out. And, for whatever reason, if Carmilla was going out, she would tell Laura that "I'm gonna be back late" or "I'll be at the Silas Marner with some people from my philosophy class. Have a nice night." Laura would never admit it out loud, but she was beginning to enjoy Carmilla's presence.  
  
But inviting Carmilla to spend the break with her and her dad would be propelling their relationship in a vastly different direction, and while Laura was beginning to think of Carmilla as a friend, she wasn't convinced Carmilla thought much about her at all. But now that classes had ended and students prepped for their exams, if Laura was going to invite Carmilla, she couldn't wait any longer.  
  
It was the Sunday night before her Ethics of Journalism exam on Monday morning, but Laura wasn't retaining any of the information from her notes. Carmilla was sitting on her bed, reading through a couple of books and jotting notes down onto a pad of paper. Laura's heart beat rapidly in the way it always did right before doing something out of her comfort zone—the same way it had when she asked Alex Sobek to prom her senior year of high school or right before she came out to her dad in tenth grade.  
  
Carmilla seemed to sense that Laura was staring at her because without glancing up she asked, "Do I have something on my face, Cutie?" Cutie seemed to be the nickname of choice the last few weeks because for some reason Carmilla seemed to be allergic to names.  
  
The question startled Laura and she quickly apologized. "Sorry," she said, embarrassed. "No."  
  
Carmilla glanced up and looked across the room at Laura for a few seconds and then smiled before looking back at her books.  
  
Laura felt her face flush. Her hands were clammy, and she could still feel her heart beating in her chest. After a few seconds of internal debate, she finally blurted out: "What are your plans over break? Are you going home?"  
  
Carmilla lifted her head again and met Laura's eyes, but she didn't answer the question right away. She just seemed to stare at Laura for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, Carmilla's eyes returned to her books, but just before Laura could feel any sort of rejection at receiving no answer, Carmilla said, "I was just planning on staying here, actually."  
  
Laura released a breath. "But they're closing down our dorm," she said stupidly because of course Carmilla knew this already. Signs were posted all over their hall.  
  
Carmilla smirked a little and then said: "Professor Rankin—he's in the political science department—was a friend of my dad's. He offered to let me stay with him and his family."  
  
"Oh," Laura said sadly. Carmilla wasn't going to be alone. She should have been happier than she was, but even though it was a long-shot to begin with, she had hoped that Carmilla would go back home with her.  
  
"Why do you ask?" Carmilla inquired, interrupting Laura's thoughts.  
  
"Oh. No reason," Laura lied and then shook her head at her own cowardice before deciding she really had nothing left to lose now. "Sorry. That's not true," she corrected. "I wanted to invite you to spend the holidays with me and my dad because I know you don't get along with your stepmom and didn't think you'd be seeing her and didn't know who else you'd spend it with, which in hindsight was really stupid and presumptuous of me. And, I mean, why would you even want to spend your break with me and my dad in my Podunk town watching cheesy Christmas movies and BBC specials and—"  
  
"Laura," Carmilla said, the use of her actual name stopping Laura in her tracks. "You're rambling," she pointed out, smirking again.  
  
Laura felt her face flush again, and she took a deep breath. "Sorry," she said looking down at her hands.  
  
"Don't be," her roommate said. The room fell uncomfortably silent for a moment and Laura could feel Carmilla's eyes on her, even if she couldn't see them. "Tell me what I should expect at this Hollis family Christmas."  
  
Laura snapped her head up and looked at Carmilla. "Does that mean you'll come?" she asked hopefully.  
  
Carmilla smiled—really smiled—in a way Laura didn't think she'd ever seen. "No," she answered, and Laura's heart dropped again. "Not necessarily. I just want to weigh my options before I commit to anything."  
  
Laura smiled. Carmilla wasn't saying no yet. But now she needed to sell her wholesome family celebrations to someone who Laura definitely wouldn't classify as wholesome. She settled for the truth.  
  
"Okay, well, I don't want you to feel like you have to participate in anything you didn’t want to if you came," she began, hoping this disclaimer would offset whatever activities may deter Carmilla from agreeing to come. "I think it's pretty standard Christmas stuff. My dad's waiting for me to get back to pick and decorate the tree, and we make gingerbread and drink hot chocolate and watch the BBC Christmas Specials. We usually go skating at this outdoor ice rink at least once. And we go to Midnight Mass on Christmas Eve and then open presents Christmas morning. Later that day we go to my Aunt's house for Christmas dinner and more gift exchanges with the family. It's probably not that exciting, but I look forward to it every year. And you'd get your own room," Laura remembered to say. "So you could just relax and do your own thing and not do anything you don't want to do."  
  
She stopped talking before she rambled on, self-conscious that she'd described what was probably the most pedestrian of holidays and certainly not something someone as cool and sophisticated as Carmilla would be caught dead doing. But it was the truth, laid vulnerably bare before her roommate.  
  
"Well, that sounds overly sentimental," Carmilla finally said, and Laura felt her eyes threatening to water. Of course Carmilla would think it was stupid. She probably thought Laura was ridiculous for even suggesting it.  
  
Laura wanted to get away—it didn't matter where as long as Carmilla wasn't there—but she couldn't move.  
  
"How many kids would be at this gathering at your Aunt's?" Carmilla asked, seemingly unaware of the turmoil going on in Laura's mind.  
  
"Huh?" Laura grunted.  
  
"At your Aunt's Christmas dinner," Carmilla said again. "Will there be any kids there?"  
  
"Just my two cousins. They're twelve and thirteen. Everyone else is older," Laura answered.  
  
Carmilla nodded. "Professor Rankin has two small children—seven and five. I'm not convinced they weren't spawned by Satan himself," Carmilla said randomly. "Plus, you know, it might be nice to get away from Styria for a little bit," she added, smirking again at Laura when she finally looked over at Carmilla again.  
  
"Does that mean you'll come?" Laura asked in disbelief.  
  
"If you're sure it's okay with your dad, yeah. Why not?" she asked like it was the most casual thing in the world. "But I'm not going to mass and I'm not gonna wear one of those stupid paper crowns the people in your BBC Christmas Specials will, no doubt, be wearing."  
  
"Deal," Laura said, unable to contain her smile. Carmilla, of all people, was spending her Christmas break with her in her hometown. Shit. What was she thinking?  
  
  
  
Laura's exams finished on Thursday, but Carmilla's last exam wasn't until Friday, so they opted to leave on Saturday morning since it was at least a seven hour drive to Laura's hometown from Styria, and this way Carmilla had time to study for her exams without the stress of packing.  
  
Most of Laura's friends were leaving on Friday, so they decided to get together on Thursday night to exchange gifts and wish each other a happy holiday. Perry set the whole thing up, so Laura knew without needing to ask that Danny would be there. She hoped it wouldn't be awkward, but she hadn't seen her for any prolonged period of time since that disastrous cafe moment in which Laura basically told her to fuck off. Laura hadn't regretted ending whatever romantic thing existed between her and Danny, but she did regret that their break up, or whatever it was, affected Perry and LaFontaine so much. She knew they felt torn between the two girls and didn't want to look like they were taking sides. So Laura was determined not to make it any more awkward than it needed to be. And, if she was honest, she missed having Danny around. She was smart and funny and easy to be around. Laura missed her friendship, and she hoped they could work on getting that back. But she wasn't looking forward to the inevitable questions about holiday plans. She hadn't told anyone except for her dad that Carmilla was spending the break with her. And she also knew that her friends were not great fans of her roommate, so she wanted to avoid their disapproving looks at all costs.  
  
Laura was the first one to arrive at the Silas Marner, one of the only good pubs in town, and one that wasn't strict on checking ID, so she grabbed a booth and ordered a glass of red wine while she waited for her friends to arrive. She checked the time on her phone: 7:52. She was unsurprisingly early. She also had a text from Carmilla: **_Carmilla_** _(7:45 p.m.): I'm adding Beyoncé to that list, too._  
  
Laura couldn't help but grin. Carmilla had been sending her lists of bands and performers which were banned for their car ride to Laura's house. Carmilla had very strong opinions on music. So far, Carmilla's no-play list included: all Christmas music ("We hear it everywhere else ad nausum, and I'm sure you and your dad are going to be playing it non-stop until Christmas, so no Christmas music," she argued), any Top 40 "shit," Broadway music, Mariah Carey and, now, Beyoncé. It amused Laura to no end.  
  
She quickly typed her reply: **_Laura_** _(7:52 p.m.):_ _Pretty sure Beyoncé was covered in "Top 40 shit"_

**_Carmilla_ ** _(7:54 p.m.): Just making sure you get the memo. ;)_

**_Laura_** _(7:55 p.m.): The_ _memo that you're a funsponge and want to ban all music from our ride home? I already got it. At this rate all we're going to listen to is an audiobook._  
  
Laura could see Carmilla was formulating a reply, but as Carmilla was typing, she was interrupted by a familiar "Hey" and she tore her eyes from her phone to see Danny standing nervously at the table.  
  
Laura stood to greet her. She smiled and returned the "Hey" and reached up to give Danny a hug.  
  
When they both settled into the booth, Danny was first to speak. "You're looking good. How have you been? You're done with your exams, right?"  
  
"Yeah. I finished this afternoon. International Journalism. I also had to turn in my Critical and Opinion Writing portfolio today," Laura explained. "But I've been good. Thanks. How have you been?"  
  
Danny was about to answer when Perry and LaFontaine arrived. Laura took the opportunity to read Carmilla's text.  
  
**_Carmilla_** _(7:57 p.m.): I'm amenable to that proposition. But I'm banning all John Green books. (I've seen what you read)._  
  
Laura rolled her eyes but sent off a quick reply: **_Laura_** _(8:02 p.m.): You can't see me rolling my eyes at you right now. Might we agree on_ Harry Potter _?_  
  
She turned her attention back to the table. LaFontaine was groaning that they failed their O-Chem final and wasn't looking forward to going back to Buffalo where their extended family failed to grasp the concept of non-binary. Perry had a couple of days left on campus, as she had to make sure her residents all vacated on time, but she was flying to Boca Raton on Saturday night to visit her grandparents. "I know I should be happier about it, but there's something woefully depressing about spending Christmas in such a warm place."  
  
"Yeah, all that sun must suck," LaFontaine said unsympathetically. "Besides, your family doesn't even celebrate Christmas," they pointed out.  
  
"Whatever," Perry huffed. "What are you doing, Danny?"  
  
"Just the usual: family time in Philly."  
  
"Are you looking forward to seeing your dad?" LaFontaine asked Laura.  
  
"Definitely. I've been told the tree scouting has begun. We're going on Saturday night."  
  
"I bet you're happy to get a break from Elvira for a couple of weeks," Danny said.  
  
"Yeah, Laura," LaFontaine jumped in. "You should be awarded a medal for putting up with her."  
  
"She's not that bad once you get to know her," Laura said in defense of her roommate.  
  
"You don't know what she's capable of," Danny pleaded from across the table.  
  
Laura looked around the table and noticed that LaFontaine was staring at the ceiling and Perry stirred the straw in her vodka tonic. She’d had enough of the Carmilla bashing, especially when nothing they said seemed to fit the version of Carmilla she knew. Sure, Carmilla wasn't the warmest person and she could give as good as she got. And, yeah, she really, really didn't like Danny. But her friends' complete disavowal of Carmilla was really irritating her, especially since, if she wanted to be honest with them, she'd rather be arguing music or audiobooks with Carmilla than sitting in this pub without her.  
  
"You know," Laura began, obviously annoyed. "I'm really getting tired of this Carmilla-is-evil narrative you guys keep perpetuating. I've lived with her for nearly four months, so I'm pretty sure I can say I know her better than any of you do. And she's not this awful person you believe she is. She's actually really nice, once you get to know her. And I don't want to sit here any longer if you're just gonna shit all over her.  
  
"And just so you know, Danny," Laura said, pointing to her, "I invited Carmilla to spend Christmas with me and my dad, so clearly I don't think I need a break from her."  
  
She sat in her seat fuming as the other girls looked back and forth at each other.  
  
"You tell her," she heard Danny say to LaFontaine.  
  
"Perry, you tell her," LaFontaine said.  
  
"Tell me what?" Laura demanded.  
  
Danny, LaFontaine and Perry all looked nervously at each other. Laura noticed LaFontaine nudging Perry forward with their head, but no one was volunteering to reveal whatever horrible thing they knew about Carmilla.  
  
"Fine," Perry said to LaFontaine. "I'll tell her." She turned to Laura and said: "I know you didn't live in our dorm last year, which is probably why you don't know about this, but there was an incident last year involving Carmilla and this girl named Ell."  
  
Laura couldn't help being curious. "What kind of incident?" she asked cautiously.  
  
"Camilla and Ell were friends, I guess," Perry explained. "But then Carmilla must have fallen for her—"  
  
"But Ell didn't feel the same way," Danny interjected.  
  
"How would you know?" Laura asked.  
  
"She was a member of the Summer Society with me," Danny revealed. "She told us the whole story. That she and Carmilla met in their Art History class and had become friends. They became really good friends. And then Carmilla told Ell she liked her, as more than friends, and Ell told her that she was sorry but she didn't feel the same way. At first things were okay between them. They remained friends, but then Carmilla got really possessive. If Ell didn't call her or want to hang out, or whatever, Carmilla would harass her. It got to the point that Ell told Carmilla that they couldn't be friends anymore, but Carmilla didn't seem to get the memo. A bunch of people saw her talking to Ell on the front lawn of a Zeta party, and she kept pleading with Ell: 'Just talk to me. That's all I'm asking.' And Ell kept telling her: 'There's nothing to talk about. We're done. We're not friends anymore.' But Carmilla didn't leave her alone until this Zeta bro walked up to them and told Carmilla to leave their party. And when classes ended that semester, Ell left Silas. She told us she didn't want to go but she had to; she was afraid of what Carmilla might do."  
  
Laura listened to the story skeptically. None of that sounded at all like anything the Carmilla she knew would do. Camilla was many things: she could be rude, she could be reactionary, she could be callous, she could be apathetic. She was not clingy, over-bearing or possessive.  
  
The journalist in Laura felt something was off with this story. "No," she said to herself out loud. "There's no way. That's not Carmilla's style. She's broody and snippy and sarcastic."  
  
"Laura," LaFontaine said, "there were witnesses. People saw her harassing Ell."  
  
"I'm not saying it didn't happen as it was described. But, Danny," Laura said to her literature TA, "didn't you spend an entire course talking about unreliable narrators? Isn't there always two sides to every story? And then isn't the truth somewhere in between? Has anyone even asked Carmilla what went down, or were you all too busy condemning her because she's easy for you to hate?"  
  
Danny, LaFontaine and Perry remained silent as Laura finished speaking. Their silence was making Laura's anger stew harder. She didn't claim to be great friends with Carmilla, but she knew her well enough by this point to at least give her the benefit of the doubt. She wondered, now, if her initial opinions of Carmilla were tainted by their perceptions of her. And maybe Carmilla's initial behavior was a reaction to Laura's own behavior towards her. Suddenly, Laura felt ashamed. She was really no better than her friends.  
  
"Look," Laura said again, a bit calmer now. "I know you guys have created this narrative about my roommate and I know she's done nothing to alter your perception of her, but deep down I know she's good. She practically nursed me back from that hangover I had at Halloween and, you're not going to believe me, but when no one else is around she's been really sweet to me. I wouldn't have invited her home if I thought for a second she was capable of the things you're accusing her of."  
  
"You're right," Perry said. "We shouldn't have said anything. Sorry, Laura."  
  
"Yeah, sorry, Laura," LaFontaine added.  
  
"I'm not sorry," Danny said. "Laura, I know you think I'm a bitch, or whatever, but she's never done anything to deserve a benefit of the doubt from me."  
  
"And what?" Laura asked. "My judgment doesn't count for anything?"  
  
Danny ran her fingers through her hair and shook her head. "It's not about that. I mean, did you just listen to what you said a bit ago? That she's nice when it's just to two of you together? Does that not seem suspicious to you?"  
  
Laura rolled her eyes. "Not when she knows you guys hate her!" she said running her eyes. "Look, could we not talk about Carmilla and, I don't know, agree to disagree for now? You've said your peace. I know how you feel."  
  
Danny nodded her head in silence, and Perry used the moment to change the subject to talk about the end-of-term Zeta party last weekend and the alleged incident that required campus police to intervene. They stuck to safe, non-Carmilla topics after that. And Laura felt okay again when she parted ways for the term.  
  
  



	3. Home and Christmas Trees

Two days later, Carmilla and Laura were on the road, and even though they agreed to an audiobook, Carmilla didn't want to start one they couldn't finish on the drive and finding a book that encompassed their seven-hour journey and was something either of them was willing to listen to was more impossible than finding music they could agree on. Laura wasn't the picky one anyway, so she let Carmilla DJ their ride home, which she was more than happy to do.  
  
"I made a playlist," Carmilla revealed, pulling up some app on her phone.  
  
Laura laughed. "Really?" she asked, but she wasn't at all surprised.  
  
"I figured we might as well use this time wisely by providing you a musical education," Carmilla said, pressing her screen and scrunching down into her seat for the ride.  
  
"Fuck off," Laura said, laughing, but didn't otherwise protest.  
  
They traveled mostly in silence. Occasionally, Laura asked about the current song or pointed out a landmark, since she'd travelled this road many times in the last two years. But Carmilla mostly dozed beside her, which didn't surprise Laura who knew the day's early start infringed upon Carmilla's sleep time. With anyone else, the silence would probably have made Laura anxious, but having lived with Carmilla for four months, Laura had learned to embrace it. It even felt comfortable with Carmilla in a way it had never been with anyone before. It was nice.  
  
Carmilla's sleeping also gave Laura the opportunity to study her a bit. Even though she lived with her and had seen her sleep, change clothes, read, emerge from the bathroom with only a towel wrapped around her body, seeing her sprawled so vulnerably on the seat beside her was something different entirely. For one thing, Carmilla sat only a few inches away from her. Laura didn't think they'd ever been so close, at least not for more than a second and definitely not on purpose. At this distance, she could reach over and remove the strand of Carmilla's dark, perfectly wavy hair away from her face. She'd had to stop herself twice from doing it already and then shook her head to try to break whatever impulse motivated the action. And had she never noticed Carmilla's near-perfect skin or her absolutely flawless profile before this day? Laura thought about those eighteenth and nineteenth century novels she'd read that semester and how she'd rolled her eyes when an author attempted to make the drawing of a lady's silhouette a sexy and seductive exercise. But looking at the slope of Carmilla's nose and her Michelangelo-inspired jawline and those eyelashes that many women had to enhance to achieve, Laura finally understood the power of the silhouette. And then she turned off the heater because suddenly the temperature in her car skyrocketed, and she was grateful that Carmilla slept at least twenty minutes more before groggily asking, in a voice so raspy it gave Laura goosebumps, where they were and how much longer they had to go.  
  
Laura didn't risk glancing back at Carmilla in that moment. "We're in Ohio now," she said. "We just passed Mentor, which means we're about an hour away."  
  
"This trip is going a lot faster than I expected it to," Carmilla said as she brought her car seat back into its upright position.  
  
Laura actually glanced at her roommate at that statement. "That's what happens when you sleep through Pennsylvania," she said, smirking.  
  
Carmilla shrugged. "I've driven through Pennsylvania before, so I know I made the right choice."  
  
"I think Pennsylvanians might disagree," Laura said, even if she didn't know why she felt the need to defend a state she wasn't even from.  
  
"Yeah, yeah," Carmilla responded, reaching for her phone. "Now that we're in Ohio, I think it's time for this." She stared a different playlist; Laura heard a familiar guitar riff. "I don't think Neil Young wrote any songs about Pennsylvania," Carmilla said.  
  
"Is this a playlist of songs about Ohio?" Laura asked, excited, even if Neil Young's song highlighted a dark moment in Ohio’s history.  
  
"There are a surprising number of songs about Ohio," Carmilla answered. "And I thought you may enjoy a little love for your home state."  
  
"Oh my God!" Laura exclaimed. "You're going to have to play this list for my dad."  
  
Carmilla looked at Laura, raising her left eyebrow to ask a question she knew Laura would understand.  
  
"He's a very proud son of Ohio," Laura answered. "And, I mean, I know he's already going to love you, but this will propel you into legendary status to him."  
  
Neither said anything after that, letting Neil Young provide the only sound. As the song ended, and the drums from the introduction of the next song kicked in, Carmilla asked: "You really think your dad's gonna like me?"  
  
Laura couldn't remember Carmilla ever sounding so vulnerable. She looked over to her and saw her glancing out the window, as if north-eastern Ohio's winter landscape from Interstate 90 was the most interesting thing in the world.  
  
"Why wouldn't he?" Laura asked rhetorically. "You're the first friend from university I've invited home. He's gonna assume that means you're pretty special."  
  
Laura felt the heat rushing back to her face, but when Carmilla turned her head and met her eyes for a brief moment before Laura had to return hers to the road, she didn't care. Carmilla had given her a smile she'd never seen before. It was bashful and thankful and it lingered long after Laura turned her head to the highway. Laura felt the song mocked her, as the refrain "I'm on a bloodbuzz" repeated a few times, a far too apt description of her current state.  
  
  
  
They'd arrived just after four o'clock, and Bill met his daughter on the porch and scooped her up into a giant hug the second she was within arm's reach. When he set her down he grabbed Carmilla and repeated the exercise. Laura tried not to laugh at the look of surprise in Carmilla's face followed by the blush her roommate couldn't hide.  
  
"I'm gonna go show Carmilla to her room, dad," Laura said after the initial pleasantries were exchanged and they'd actually entered the house. She began walking towards the door to the basement when her dad stopped her.  
  
"Oh no," he said, getting his daughter's attention. "I must have forgotten to tell you."  
  
"Tell me what?"  
  
"I might have converted the guest bedroom into a small yoga studio. I gave the bed to a coworker."  
  
"But you don't do yoga," Laura reflected.  
  
"I do now."  
  
"Since when?"

  
"Since you went to school."

  
"In August?" Laura asked. Carmilla watched the exchange with equal parts amusement and embarrassment.  
  
"Since September of last year," her dad admitted. "I didn't start the studio until you went back this semester, though."  
  
Laura pinched the bridge of her nose, while Bill Hollis looked sheepishly at Carmilla, who was trying her hardest not to smirk.  
  
"Okay. Okay," Laura said, taking a deep breath. "Carmilla can have my room, and I'll take the couch."  
  
"Stop being so dramatic, Cupcake. We share a room at school. We'll just share your room here," Carmilla said.  
  
Laura took a deep breath and bit her bottom lip. "You’re sure?" she asked, looking at her roommate. "I promised you you'd have your own space."  
  
Carmilla laughed, which made Laura relax for a brief moment. "I was an only child for most of my life. I've had a lot of space. Let's just go put our bags down, Cutie."  
  
Laura rolled her eyes but led the way to her room anyway. It was only when she opened the door to her room that she panicked again.  
  
"Only one bed," Carmilla observed over her shoulder. "Kinky."  
  
Laura blushed immediately and was momentarily paralyzed at the door. Carmilla pushed passed her into the room, winking at her and laughing before dropping her green duffle bag onto the floor and looking around at the years of pre-Silas Laura on display.  
  
They didn't stay long inside Laura's room, and when they went downstairs and rejoined her dad, Laura had never seen Carmilla be so polite: "Thank you for having me, Mr. Hollis"; "You have a lovely home"; "Is there anything I can do to help you with dinner?" It amused her, but it also weirded her out to the point she couldn't help but asking, "Who are you and what have you done with my roommate?"  
  
"Oh fuck off," Carmilla responded, rolling her eyes but also fighting a smile.  
  
"No, really. You're usually all 'too cool for school.' It's weird."  
  
"I was raised by an Army officer. That stuff's just ingrained in me."  
  
This was the first thing Carmilla had ever said about her father, other than to tell Danny, who had accused her of having Daddy issues during some back and forth bickering one night in their room, that "yeah. That's probably safe to assume considering he's dead. Would you also like to talk about how my mom walked out on us when I was four years old?" She'd stormed out of the room after that and didn't mention the incident again, and Laura followed Carmilla's lead by pretending that Carmilla hadn't revealed some of her most painful baggage.  
  
"Really?" Laura blurted, surprised. "Carmilla Karnstein is an Army brat?"  
  
"Shut up, Hollis."  
  
"Yes, ma'am," Laura said, saluting Carmilla and trying to repress a laugh.  
  
Carmilla groaned. "I hate you right now."  
  
Laura couldn't help but laugh at that. But she thought it better not to tease Carmilla anymore and decided, instead, to drag her to the dining room table where dinner was ready.  
  


Bill Hollis was the kind of guy people just opened up to. Laura had always watched and admired his ability to talk to anyone about anything. He could talk about the weekend's football game with as much expertise as he could talk about gardening or yoga, apparently. She wished she'd inherited that social ease, but Laura hadn't been so lucky. And when it came to Carmilla, Bill Hollis was a magician.  
  
Over the course of a forty-five minute dinner, Laura's dad had managed to learn more about Carmilla's background than she had in the four months they'd lived together. Thanks to her dad, she learned Carmilla had been born in Germany, where her dad had been stationed. She learned that Carmilla's mother was French, that she had met Carmilla's father while studying in Germany, and that she'd gotten pregnant accidentally. Carmilla also revealed that her dad persuaded her mom not to "get rid of the baby" and he asked her to marry him and she did. But then, just after Carmilla turned four, as the family prepared to return to the United States, Carmilla's mom left them with a note that said: "I'm sorry. I can't. I'm not ready to be a wife and mother. I thought I could. But I can't. Please tell Carmilla I love her." She hadn't seen or heard from her since then, even after her father died when she was sixteen.  
  
She'd grown up in Westpoint, New York. Her dad was a political science professor at Westpoint, a job far removed from dangerous combat zones abroad. But he was invited to lend his expertise to some of the soldiers who'd just arrived in Afghanistan, and so he went. It was supposed to a quick two-week crash course, but on his way from the airport to the base, his convoy was attacked and he was killed, along with three other men and a woman, leaving Carmilla an orphan at the mercy of her stepmother, a woman her father married when she was twelve years old.  
  
"She's not a terrible person," Carmilla explained, when her father asked about her stepmother. "I just don't think I'm what she expected. And she definitely didn't expect to have to raise me on her own. I just-I just don't think she knows how to be a mother to me. And I probably didn't make it easier on her after my dad died. I was pretty difficult."  
  
"You're probably being too hard on yourself," Bill said from across the table, taking a sip from his glass of iced tea. "You'd just lost your father and probably felt very alone and angry. I mean, you should have been stressing out about failing your physics exam or losing your virginity or something," he said, making Carmilla smile, "not wondering why the universe seemed to have it out for you and, on top of that, worry how your stepmom would treat you now that your father was gone."  
  
"Yeah," Carmilla sighed. "You're probably right. And I have to give her a little credit; she sounded genuinely upset when I told her I wasn't coming home for Christmas."  
  
"Don't beat yourself up over that either. Christmas with the Hollises is a special treat," he said grinning. "But, just so you know, you're welcome here any time you'd like. Even if it's not Christmas."  
  
"If I ever have a desire to do yoga, I'm coming back here," she said grinning back at Laura's dad.  
  
Laura had remained silent throughout this conversation, and she wondered if Carmilla even remembered she was there. She wanted to reach out and squeeze Carmilla's hand in support or hug her or do anything to communicate that Laura cared for her, but she didn't. She just threw a thankful smile to her father and gathered the dishes from the table.  
  
When she returned the dining room, her dad announced they were leaving in ten minutes to get the Christmas tree. Carmilla followed Laura up to her room, but nothing else was said about all that Carmilla had revealed.  
  
  
  
They all crammed into Bill's pickup truck. Laura sat between her dad and Carmilla, and she was having a hard time concentrating on whatever her dad was saying because she was convinced her right leg, which was right up against Carmilla's left leg, was on fire. If Carmilla noticed the searing but not at all unpleasant heat, she didn't say anything. By the time they'd arrived at Nick's Christmas Tree Farm, Laura welcomed the cold outside of the truck.  
  
It took about twenty minutes for Bill and Laura to find their ideal tree. And while Carmilla was not at all helpful by continuously suggested the most pathetic looking trees, Laura was grateful she was playing along. It had all gone so well, in fact, that Laura forgot she'd have to get back into the truck and sit way too closely to Carmilla again until she found herself sandwiched between her and her dad again. She wasn't able to listen at all while Carmilla described the fact that her family never got a real tree for Christmas. Thankfully for Laura, her dad carried on the conversation, so the fact that she'd effectively gone mute went unnoticed.  
  
They decorated the tree until late into the night. The Hollises didn't do one of those elegant Martha Stewart trees with a few generic and color-codes ornaments. Their tree told a family story, each containing a specific memory or was made to commemorate an important event: Laura's first Christmas, Laura's first year at school, a painted clay snowman that Laura had made when she was seven, Bill and Teresa's fifth Christmas, a picture of a woman holding a baby, which Carmilla found first and which Laura took reverently from her hands.  
  
"This is a picture of me and my mom when I was six months old—my first Christmas," she explained without being asked. "My aunt gave this to us the Christmas after she died. We always place this one prominently," she said, choosing a spot at eye-level in the center of the tree.  
  
"You look just like her," Carmilla said quietly from behind.  
  
Laura smiled, still looking at the ornament. "That's what everyone says."  
  
They were quiet for a moment and neither made a move to put an ornament on the tree. Bill went to bed an hour before on Laura's insistence. She wanted him to see the tree only in its finished state, as if elves came to decorate it at night. It was the way she always experienced the tree as a kid. One night she'd go to sleep in her normal house and then next morning she woke up to see that Christmas had arrived. "I know it's silly," she explained to Carmilla after she banned him from the living room, "but it always felt so magical. My mom would stay up all night decorating the house just so I could have that one moment. I want to do that for my dad."  
  
Carmilla glanced over the tree. "It looks amazing," she said earnestly, breaking the silence that had befallen.  
  
"Yeah," Laura sighed, stepping back to examine their work. "Thanks for helping me."  
  
"I was told it was necessary for the full Hollis Christmas experience."  
  
Laura laughed. And then she suddenly bolted away from the room to reach into her backpack that was hanging from a hook near the front door. When she returned, Carmilla was looking at her like she'd grown another head or something, her eyebrow raised with an unasked question.  
  
"Sorry. I almost forgot," Laura said, handing Carmilla a thin white box tied together with a red ribbon.  
  
"What's this?" Carmilla held the box almost reverently in her hand, her voice unable to hide her surprise.  
  
"It's not your Christmas present or anything," Laura explained. "More like a thanks-for-spending-your-holiday-with-me thing."  
  
And when Carmilla's eyes darted back and forth between the box and Laura a few times, Laura had to prod her.  
  
"Open it!"  
  
Carmilla smirked and rolled her eyes but did as she was told, sliding the ribbon off and removing the lid. Underneath a small layer of tissue paper, Carmilla uncovered a Christmas ornament. It was one of those personalized ones found at pop up mall carts, the ones with families of snowmen or gingerbread men with every member of the family's names written carefully across a cute winter hat. This one wasn't that. This one contained a scene in front of a fireplace, with two red and white stockings hanging from the mantle. On one side of the fireplace, a black-haired girl sat reading a book. On the other side of the fireplace sat a girl with toffee-coloured hair holding a doll. Across the bottom, Carmilla saw "Carmilla's First Hollis Family Christmas" and the year written in perfect script.  
  
"Tree's not quite done yet," Laura said, interrupting whatever thoughts Carmilla was having.  
  
"Laura, this is–" Carmilla met Laura's eyes and Laura could see the slightest glistening in her eyes. "I don't-," she tried again, struggling. "Thank you," she said finally, moving forward and wrapping Laura in her arms for a brief moment before going to place the ornament on the tree.  
  
Whether she noticed Laura's brief paralysis or the blush that now resided on her cheeks Laura couldn't say.  
  
"Ready for bed?" Carmilla asked mid yawn.  
  
It was already after midnight and they'd had a long day, but Laura was in no hurry to go to bed. Bed meant one bed. One bed that she was going to have to share with Carmilla. Sure, she'd shared her bed with many friends growing up, but not since Alex Sobek and not with a roommate who, if she was honest with herself, she hadn't been able to keep her eyes off of all day. She was so busted.  
  
"You wouldn't happen to have a pair of pajama pants I could sleep in do you?" Carmilla asked when they were inside Laura's room. "It's just, I didn't expect to be sharing a bed with you and I'm gonna guess my usual sleeping attire wouldn't be appropriate.  
  
Laura felt her cheeks betraying her once again. _Usual sleeping attire_. Carmilla's usual sleeping attire consisted of a t-shirt or tank top and her underwear. As if this night couldn't get any more uncomfortable for Laura.  
  
"Sure," she managed to say, avoiding Carmilla's eyes and instead opening her bottom drawer and taking out the first pair of pajama bottoms she found, which thankfully were just plaid and didn't have dinosaurs or Hello Kitty all over them.  
  
"Thanks," she heard Carmilla say.  
  
"Yeah. No problem. The bathroom's at the end of the hall. So, um, I'm gonna go get dressed and brush my teeth and stuff, but you can have whichever side of the bed you want. J-just make yourself comfortable. I'll be back in a sec."  
  
She didn't wait to hear Carmilla's reply, if she had one, and when she got to the bathroom, she made a beeline to the sink to wash her face with cold water and try to relax.  
  
When she returned to the room she felt a bit calmer. Carmilla slipped passed her towards the bathroom wearing her pajama pants and a familiar Led Zeppelin t-shirt and Laura took another deep breath and surveyed her room. Carmilla's bag was, shockingly, neatly pushed against the wall. Laura smiled to herself.  
  
Carmilla returned a couple of minutes later.  
  
"Any preference?" Laura asked, gesturing to the queen-sized bed.  
  
"Right side, I guess? That's the side I sleep on in our room."  
  
"Yeah, okay."  
  
Laura waited for Carmilla to get in before turning off the light and then, reluctantly, joined her.  
  
"Thanks," Carmilla said quietly, rolling her head towards Laura's side. "For everything. I've had the best day." And then she rolled her head back and turned onto her side, her back to Laura.  
  
"You're welcome," she said quietly. "Thanks for coming. Goodnight, Carmilla." She rolled the other direction, so that their backs faced each other and tried to sleep.  
  
The last thing she heard the rest of the night was a faint "Goodnight, Laura."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies to anyone from Pennsylvania. I think it's a lovely state, even if Carmilla does not.


	4. Wooster, OH

Laura did not have a good night's sleep. That would require sleep, which definitely didn't happen until sometime after four, which was the last time she looked at the clock.  
  
Carmilla, on the other hand, seemed to sleep soundly beside her. It was otherworldly. At school Laura almost always fell asleep before Carmilla. And she never had problems sleeping, even when Carmilla read quietly on her bed to a lone lamplight or even when Carmilla came home at whatever late hour and, with cat-like dexterity, managed not to make any noise or require any lights to maneuver around the room. But in Laura's childhood bedroom, Laura lay sleeplessly still on her bed, afraid that any movement would wake Carmilla, and the last thing she wanted was for Carmilla to be awake.  
  
She woke in a panic at eleven. She never slept her mornings away. It was her favorite time of the day. Her panic only mounted when she noticed the other side of her bed was empty, which meant Carmilla was already up and doing who knows what in her otherwise empty house. Her dad would have left for church at least an hour ago.  
  
Laura practically jumped out of bed, throwing her hair into a messy bun and then running downstairs. The advantage of Carmilla staying with her was that Carmilla knew what Laura looked like—the good and the not-so good—so she didn't bother with anything else. It's not like she was trying to impress Carmilla anyway. She wasn't.  
  
She found Carmilla sitting at the breakfast table with a mug and an empty plate in front of her, reading her dad's newspaper. Carmilla arched her eyebrow at Laura when she saw her and then smirked in that way she used to always do, the one that made Laura feel like she was being laughed at. She hadn't seen it in a few weeks.  
  
"Good morning, Sunshine," she said, taking another sip from her mug.  
  
Laura stood staring at Carmilla but she couldn't speak. This entire scenario was surreal. Carmilla was awake long before her, sitting in her childhood home, quietly reading _The Daily Record_ after having managed to make coffee and find something to eat. She even found the mug Laura painted at one of those pottery places her aunts had taken her to for her thirteenth birthday, the one where she'd tried—unsuccessfully—to create her own Starbucks-inspired logo on the cup, trading the company's trademark siren with a crude version of herself: a bushy haired, dusty brunette with a round face and two dots for eyes and a half-circle smile. It had a poorly-drawn LAURA'S COFFEE around the circle of the logo. She even imitated the customization boxes on the back. She'd thought herself so clever at the time; her aunt and father told her it was "adorable," "wonderful," but with Carmilla's slender, long fingers, it looked so tragically uncool.  
  
"Your dad bought us breakfast from some Hungarian place he said you loved," Carmilla said, pointing to a box on the counter.  
  
"He went to Tulipan?" she asked, confused. "And you saw him before he left?"  
  
"No, I got up about forty-five minutes ago. But he left us each a note."  
  
Laura walked over to the box. Beside it she did, in fact, see two different notes, one addressed to her and one for Carmilla.

_Laura, picked up your favorite kiflis. Can't get those in Styria! See you tonight and have a wonderful_ _day. Message me if your plans keep you out later than dinner. Love, dad. P.S. The ladies at Tulipan_ _want to see you while you're at home at some point._

To Carmilla he wrote:

_To Carmilla Karnstein, our most valued guest: Please enjoy these nut and poppy seed "croissants" called kiflis. They're Laura's favorite, from a beloved Hungarian bakery here in Wooster. I do hope you have a lovely day. - Bill P.S. Make sure to save room for the Swedish meatballs I'm making for dinner tonight. They're my specialty._

Laura smiled after reading the notes. He was seriously the best.  
  
"Sorry I slept so late," she said, grabbing a kifli and snapping out of her stupor a bit. "I'm pretty sure it's the first time I've woken up after you since we've known each other. How'd you sleep?"  
  
"Like the dead. I want to transport your bed back to our dorm room."  
  
"Mmmhmm," Laura hummed.  
  
"There's coffee in the press. It's not been sitting long. Or I could make you tea or something?" Carmilla asked. "Hot chocolate maybe?"  
  
Laura looked at Carmilla and laughed. "You realize you're in my house, right?" Carmilla didn't appear to understand the joke. "Way to make me look like a terrible host."  
  
Carmilla blushed. It wasn't obvious since she'd obscured most of her face with the newspaper, but Laura could see the hint of pink on her neck. "Sorry," she mumbled from behind the paper.  
  
Laura didn't respond. She didn't really know how to. Instead, she went to the coffee press and poured coffee into a Silas mug she'd bought when she first visited the school. Then she went to the refrigerator and added milk and then, last, three generous spoonfuls of sugar. When she returned to the table she saw Carmilla smirking at her.  
  
"What?" Laura asked, unable to ignore whatever was going on behind Carmilla's smirk.  
  
"Nothing," she said smiling, setting the paper on the table. Keeping her eyes on Laura, she grabbed her mug with both hands and leaned against the back of her chair, and as she took a quiet sip for her cup, she winked at her.  
  
Laura quickly looked down at the kifli and took a quick bite, hoping Carmilla didn't see her blush again.  
  
"So, Cutie, what's our plan for the day?" Carmilla asked. Laura was grateful for the change in subject.  
  
"There's not much to do in Wooster on a Sunday, especially since most of the college students have left by now. If you're not opposed to it, I figured we could stay in and relax?"  
  
"Sounds like a plan." She took another sip from her mug and then stood up. "Hey, do you mind if I take a shower?"  
  
Laura watched as Carmilla rinsed the mug at the sink and then looked a little lost as to what she should do with it.  
  
"Just leave it in the sink. I'll take care of it," Laura said, answering Carmilla's unspoken question. And, then, addressing her first question: "There should be towels in the closet just outside of my bathroom. It takes a solid minute for the water to get hot, so run the water before you get in," she advised. "Take your time."  
  
Laura watched Carmilla as she left the kitchen. Carmilla, thankfully didn't look back to find Laura staring, but she kept her gaze on Carmilla's retreating form until she couldn't see her anymore and then turned and groaned, burying her head in her hands.  
  
  
  
The rest of their Sunday went, as planned, without incident. Bill Hollis returned from church and teased his daughter for sleeping in late, but he was too distracted by the football games to carry it on for very long. Carmilla sat in the family room with him, trying to make it look like she was reading _Anna Karenina_ but was strangely invested in and knowledgeable about football. Laura spent most of the afternoon on her phone reading Buffy/Faith fan fiction and messaging Laf and Perry, but she was mostly distracted by the bonding happening between Carmilla and her dad. When the game was on TV, they dissected every play, every blown call, every flag thrown. During commercials, they switched to _Anna Karenina_ and debated whether or not they liked Levin and what would happen to the novel if "Tolstoy wasn't wanking himself over him all the time."  
  
Laura quickly looked up at Carmilla, shocked by what she'd just heard her say out loud to her father. Carmilla must have been mortified because her face was the brightest red Laura had ever seen on another person. And just as Carmilla began to apologize, Laura heard her dad laughing in that infectious way that made everyone else around him laugh too.  
  
"I don't think I've ever heard anyone describe Tolstoy that way." He glanced over at Laura and said, pointing to Carmilla with his thumb: "This one's a keeper."  
  
The football game returned from its commercial break, so Laura was spared coming up with something to say in response. But when she chanced a look to Carmilla, to gage how she reacted to what her dad said, Carmilla’s  eyes were already focused on her. And when she knew she had Laura's attention, she smiled slowly and then winked at her again before turning her gaze to the game.  
  
  
  
Laura didn't sleep well the next few nights. She'd considered, more than once, just grabbing her pillow and plopping on the family room sofa, but then she'd have to explain to Carmilla and her dad why she wasn't sleeping in bed, and she wasn't ready to deal with that.  
  
But the next few days, at least, went remarkably well. Laura gave Carmilla the tour of her town and the college. They'd met her dad for lunch one day, and he gave Carmilla a tour of the college library, where he worked, even if it was small and didn't house a significant collection, like the library at Ohio State, but Carmilla seemed to enjoy just being surrounded by so many books, even if she didn't take any home that day when Bill offered to check some out for her. Laura even managed to see the ladies at Tulipan who didn't let her leave without filling her bag with twice as many pastries as she paid for.  
  
They spent their first few evenings at Laura's house, which, thankfully, Carmilla didn't seem to mind. Laura cooked dinner a couple of nights, and Carmilla marveled that Laura knew how to cook so well. And how, when they returned to Silas, they were hunting down a kitchen so she could cook for her again. Laura smiled at the thought and tried to ignore the heat she could feel in her ears.

After dinners, Bill and Laura convinced Carmilla to play board games with them, something they enjoyed but didn't do as often as they wanted to since most games require more than two people to play. She enjoyed _Pandemic_ over _Settlers of Catan_ but really favored playing chess with her dad, something, Carmilla explained, her dad had taught her how to play at a very young age. This suited Laura fine since she didn't like playing chess, even though her dad begged her to play. Laura was glad Carmilla didn't mind the challenge.

They didn't know it, but she enjoyed watching them from across the room. She'd never seen her roommate converse so easily with someone before. There was no caustic sarcasm, no snark, no pretense. In Bill's company, Carmilla was articulate, sarcastic but witty, sincere. Laura found herself a little bit jealous at times—jealous of Carmilla, who effortlessly gained her father's affection, and jealous of her father, who seemed to get nothing but the best of her roommate, something she'd been trying to do for the last four months. But one or the other would dispel the jealousy as soon as it appeared. She'd hear her dad share some story about her and tell Carmilla how lucky he was to have her for a daughter. And other times, while Carmilla waited for Bill to make his next move, she'd glance over to Laura and smile and let her eyes linger until Laura dropped her head to try and hide the shy, goofy smile she couldn't contain.  
  


When Bill Hollis visited his daughter in Styria for Thanksgivng, he'd told her he had been seeing a history professor and he wanted to introduce her to Laura. Laura didn't know how to feel about this piece of information, and her silence scared her father in the moment. But Laura couldn't focus on anything except for the sound of blood rushing in her ears. He hadn't, to her knowledge, ever dated anyone. And a part of her buried deep down knew that she should be happy for him, but she couldn't figure out what it all meant for her, for him, or for the carefully constructed world they'd rebuilt together after her mom died. An uncomfortable few minutes passed before she considered this moment from her father's perspective—how difficult it must have been for him to tell her, how amazing this woman must be for him to risk telling her. Laura understood how much power she wielded over her father's happiness and how, for maybe the first time ever, he'd come to her not as her father, but as an equal, waiting for her approval. And she wanted him to be happy. Of course she did. So she smiled as enthusiastically as she could and said as sincerely as she could muster that she'd love to meet her.  
  
Wednesday night, two nights before Christmas, Bill invited Dr. Vivian Whitbeck for dinner. Laura prepared for the evening by kicking the crap out of a poor punching bag in the garage and then dragging Carmilla to the grocery store because she volunteered to cook for her dad's _vegetarian_ girlfriend. Carmilla kept asking if she was okay and Laura insisted every time that she was fine. Carmilla kept throwing these looks full of worry and concern Laura’s way as if to tell Laura she didn’t believe her, but she stopped asking after a while and let Laura be.  
  
In the middle of trying to decipher some badly written direction in the eggplant Parmesan recipe she’d found online, something Laura had never before made, she neared another panic attack.  
  
"Shit!" she yelled. She didn't even have the wherewithal to be thankful her father wasn't home to hear her cursing. "Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit!" she swore, dropping her knife into the sink, which had the unintended effect of beckoning Carmilla to the kitchen. Laura was holding on to the island counter and trying not to panic when she arrived.  
  
"Hey," Carmilla said, using a soft, soothing voice, as she walked slowly towards Laura. "Everything OK in here?"  
  
"No," Laura answered, pushing herself away from the counter and leaning back against the kitchen sink behind her. She hadn't had the courage to meet Carmilla's eyes yet. But she took a deep, calming breath and ran a hand through her hair before crossing her arms over her chest. "I don't have a fucking clue what I'm doing," she admitted, finally looking at Carmilla, who was standing across the island, and fighting the moisture that had formed around her eyes, which had more to do with meeting her dad’s _girlfriend_ than potentially ruining their dinner. She’d never admit that, of course.  
  
"I'm sure it's not that bad."  
  
Laura sighed and buried her head in her hands but didn't otherwise respond.  
  
"What's the issue?" Carmilla pressed on. "It doesn't look nearly as dire as the litany of shits led me to believe."  
  
Laura couldn't help but smirk as she raised her head again. She flipped Carmilla off when she saw that Carmilla's smirk was waiting for her, but she did tell Carmilla what had tripped her up, and Carmilla laughed. It wasn’t the reaction she expected, but it wasn’t cruel. And with a bit of help from the Internet, they figured it out. Carmilla didn't leave her alone for until she finished the meal.  
  
Carmilla's heroics didn't end when they stopped cooking. Laura had done the worst job hiding how much she wasn't looking forward to meeting her dad's girlfriend. She hadn't admitted it out loud and they'd never talked about it, but Carmilla rescued Laura over and over throughout the meal.  
  
Dr. Whitbeck ("Please call me Vivian," she'd insisted) was as brilliant and charming and witty and beautiful as she would expect of the person to capture her father's attention. Carmilla, adding to the column of Things Laura Has Never Seen Carmilla Do—again—did her best impression of an interesting, charming and enchanting human. She spoke to Vivian about her research, the courses she taught, the Fulbright project she'd done in Germany. She even asked how she and Laura's dad had met. She was radiant and effortless and Laura wondered where this version of Carmilla hid when they were in Styria. Laura, on the other hand, was quiet and guarded and would have failed this first-impression encounter had it not been for her roommate.  
  
"Your father tells me you're studying journalism," Dr. Whitbeck said, in an effort to learn more about Laura, who hadn't said much the entire night.  
  
"Yeah." She didn't know how else she should respond to that.  
  
"Laura writes a weekly column for the Silas newspaper, _The Voice_ , a job usually reserved for upperclassmen, and hosts a popular podcast investigating some of Silas's rumored creepy past," Carmilla interjected, bumping Laura's leg under the table.  
  
This time Laura's silence wasn't because she didn't know how to act in front of the first woman her dad had ever brought home for her to meet, but because she could not understand how Carmilla knew so much about her journalism projects. They'd never talked about them. Carmilla had never even asked Laura anything about her coursework or extracurriculars, apart from her Literature class, and she'd never seen her reading the school paper.  
  
It continued like that for at least another painful thirty minutes. Vivian would ask Laura a question, and Laura answered in the lamest way possible until Carmilla or, in some cases, her dad would elaborate on Laura's answer. Each time Carmilla spoke up for her, it threw her because how did she miss the fact that Carmilla paid such close attention to her?  
  
And, given the way the evening had gone up to that point, Laura couldn't even blame Dr. Whitbeck for asking Carmilla, this time, "How long have you and Laura been together?"  
  
Laura choked on the drink she'd just taken and when she caught her breath she looked directly at Carmilla. And for the first time that night, Carmilla was speechless. Her cheeks were a bright pink and her mouth hung open the slightest bit. And this time, Laura came to her rescue.  
  
"Carmilla's not—," she stammered. "Carmilla's my roommate."  
  
"Oh," Dr. Whitbeck said, furrowing her eyebrows and looking back and forth between Laura and Carmilla. "I'm sorry. I just thought—"  
  
"It's fine," Carmilla interrupted, finding her voice. "I'm going to take that as a compliment," she said quietly, staring down at her plate.  
  
Bill Hollis took the brief silence that followed to change the subject while Laura let out the breath she didn't know she was holding. Carmilla still wouldn't look up, and Laura couldn't keep looking at her, sitting to her left, and not bring any more attention onto her. But thankfully the rest of the meal went well. Dr. Whitbeck even complimented the meal and thanked Laura for making something vegetarian.  
  
"I can't take all the credit. It wouldn't have happened had Carmilla not come to my rescue," Laura revealed truthfully.  
  
"Well, I must say," Dr. Whitbeck said, taking a sip of wine. "You two seem to make a great pair."  
  
Carmilla glanced at Laura and gave her a small smile at that.  
  
They followed dinner with a much less painful session of _Ticket to Ride: Europe_ , which Carmilla won. "In honor of Vivian's and Carmilla's times spent there," her father had said when he pulled the game out. If this woman liked playing board games, she may be a good fit for her dad after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've never been to Wooster, or anywhere in Wayne County. Depictions of Wooster were formed from Internet research and loosely based on a small university town on the opposite end of Ohio, where I lived for two years. So if I got it wrong, Wayne Country folks, I apologize.


	5. Last-Minute Shopping

"Do you think you may be able to take me to the mall today?" Carmilla asked from her side of the bed around ten the following morning, just after Laura emerged from the shower wearing a robe and a towel wrapped around her head.  
  
"It's Christmas Eve," Laura provided by way of an answer.  
  
Carmilla rolled her eyes and, leaning up on one elbow, ran a hand through her somehow perfectly tussled bed head, and Laura couldn’t help but gulp at the sight. "I'm aware, Sherlock. But there's something I need to get."  
  
Laura couldn't deny her request. Carmilla had been the perfect guest and had gone along with whatever Laura wanted, not to mention saving her from what would have most likely been a disastrous evening the night before, so if Carmilla's one request was to go to a mall on Christmas Eve, she couldn't say no.  
  
"When did you want to go?"  
  
"Does twenty minutes give you enough time to get ready? I figured the earlier we left the better, no?"  
  
"Yeah, OK," Laura said. "Twenty minutes."  
  
Carmilla got up and disappeared to the bathroom, but twenty minutes later she was showered, dressed, and ready to go and munching on a granola bar.  
  
By 10:45, the mall was already packed. Laura found a parking spot far from an entrance point but decided that walking was preferable to wasting time looking for a closer spot.  
  
"Do you want to meet me here in about forty-five minutes?" Carmilla asked once they entered the mall.  
  
"Wait. What?" Laura asked, confused.  
  
"Yeah," Carmilla said, a bit shyly. "There are a couple of things I want to pick up but I don't exactly want you to see."  
  
"Carmilla, you don't—"  
  
"I know. But I want to. So, you'll be OK for forty-five minutes?"  
  
"Yeah. I'll be fine," Laura assured here. "But meet me at Michel's. It's a French cafe at the end of the mall, and I'm going to be starving in forty-five minutes."  
  
"Michel's it is. Good luck," Carmilla said before quickly stopping at the mall map and heading in the direction of who knows where.  
  
Laura checked the time on her phone and then decided to just wander around. She considered going back to her car, but then she didn't want to unwittingly give some poor last-minute shopper the idea that her parking spot would soon be available, so she stayed put. She figured she could look for a few stocking stuffers and, maybe, if she saw something, a gift for Vivian, too.  
  
Forty-five minutes passed more slowly than she thought it would, but she managed to find a few things to purchase, and she, fortunately, had not run into anyone from high school. She was standing just outside of Michel's, looking at her phone to read a text from Carmilla telling her she was on her way when she heard someone say her name.  
  
"Well, if it isn't little Laura Hollis," a voice she recognized but couldn't quite place said from somewhere nearby.  
  
Laura looked up but didn't see anyone, so she turned her head about forty-five degrees to her left and saw Olivia Borden smirking at her and Alex Sobek standing right next to her looking like the last thing she wanted to do was talk to Laura.  
  
"Hi, Laura," Alex said quietly, looking down at her shoes the second the words came out of her mouth.  
  
Laura stood staring at them, unable to speak, wishing she was anywhere but standing in front of Olivia and Alex by herself.  
  
Olivia laughed. It was fake and mocking, and Laura hated whatever was about to come out of her mouth.  
  
"Alex and I were just talking about you, weren't we, Alex?" Olivia and Laura looked to Alex who looked as uncomfortable as Laura felt. She did manage a slight nod to answer Olivia's question. "We both thought it was odd we hadn't seen you since the summer we graduated high school. We were beginning to wonder if you'd ever show your face around here again, and here you are."  
  
"H-how have you been, Olivia?" Laura finally managed to stammer out, albeit quietly.  
  
"Great. Really great." Olivia didn't elaborate.  
  
"That's great," Laura said as sincerely as she could given the circumstances. She really didn't care, but social mores dictated she had to at least ask the question and act civil. Rather than probe further, she turned her attention to Alex instead. "How about you, Alex?" she asked with a much more sincere smile.  
  
Alex's eyes finally landed on Laura's and Laura was transported to another time when they weren't just acquaintances who'd bumped into each other after a couple of years in a crowded mall instead of best friends who spent every free moment together—a time before prom or Owen Borden or Olivia need to humiliate Laura or anything that happened that final part of their senior year.  
  
"I've been okay," Alex said, bringing Laura back to the present. "You? Are you enjoying Silas?"  
  
Laura was doing her best to formulate words enough to answer Alex's questions, but she was finding the task especially difficult. Alex Sobek was standing right in front of her and she looked great—those blue eyes and dimples and chestnut, brown hair that always looked phenomenal, no matter how she wore it—and she looked, in contrast to Olivia, sincere and even a little contrite. And Laura was still taking it all in because Alex was voluntarily speaking to her and not avoiding her or hiding behind Olivia or Owen or any one of their friends.  
  
She heard Olivia huff and then, when she looked at her, saw her rolling her eyes.  
  
"You can quit eye fucking her already," Olivia spat.  
  
"W-what?" Laura sputtered, shocked. She felt the blush on her face. "I wasn't—"  
  
"It's been nearly two years," Olivia continued.  
  
"Olivia—" Alex began before she was cut off by her friend.  
  
"When will you understand that Alex doesn't like you—not then and not now? And it only makes her, and everyone else, uncomfortable when you stare all lustfully at her."  
  
Laura felt water accumulate around her eyes. She couldn't help it. Suddenly she felt small and guilty like she did that time, several months after her mother was killed and long after the pity parties had ended, when Aaron Mackey was charged for her mother's death, as if she had anything to do with his sentencing. But Aaron Mackey, a junior, was the high school's All-State starting tight end and basketball star and now his future (a football scholarship to Ohio State) was in doubt, and somehow Laura's classmates blamed her for ruining his life. It didn't help that his youngest brother, Dylan, was in her class. It also mirrored an almost identical situation a couple of years ago, in which her entire class—once again—turned against her. She'd already been ostracized by that time by most of the kids her age, but she still had allies. Or at least she did until Olivia made sure she didn't. And now she stood before her biggest bully, her first encounter with anyone from her high school since she left for Silas three semesters ago, reminded of just how much she hated it here and how much she had gained since leaving.  
  
Laura felt a hand on her arm, turning her attention away from Olivia’s sneer and the look of absolute shock on Alex’s face. Carmilla had returned from whatever errand she needed to run around the mall, and Laura would have felt relieved if she didn’t feel so exposed.  
  
She saw Carmilla’s eyes change as she started to register something wasn’t quite right. They went from playful to concerned in less than a second as she tried to read the situation.  
  
“Cupcake?” she asked, quietly, as if not to startle Laura, lowering her hand to grasp onto hers. If Laura was in any other state she could have acknowledged the gesture as monumental—one of the sweetest things she’d witnessed from Carmilla—or perhaps even meaningful, though she wouldn’t have been certain. All Laura could do in return is squeeze Carmilla’s hand to hopefully reassure her that she was, at the very least, coherent and present and not totally catatonic, even if she couldn’t speak. Laura heard Olivia’s scoff. The sound took Carmilla’s eyes from hers, and she finally registered the fact that Laura wasn’t alone.  
  
“May I help you?” Carmilla asked briskly, reminding Laura of the Carmilla she’d first met—the Carmilla who gave zero fucks and didn’t make friends.  
  
“Your girlfriend is certainly charming,” Olivia said to Laura, ignoring Carmilla altogether. “And, by the looks of it,” Olivia continued, eyeing Carmilla up and down, “completely out of your league. I have to admit, Laura, I’m impressed.”  
  
“Olivia,” Alex said. “Leave them alone.”  
  
It was the first time Laura had ever heard Alex speak up to Olivia.  
  
“I’m Alex, by the way,” she continued, extending her hand out to Carmilla. Carmilla simply started at the offering until Alex took her hand back, untouched. “And this is Olivia. We went to high school with Laura.”  
  
“Huh,” Carmilla said, looking between the two girls. “Do all of your high school reunions end with people in tears, or are you two just cunts?”  
  
She said the final word so loudly that a few people around them heard. One woman gasped and covered her son’s ears as she passive aggressively glared at Carmilla as she walked by. Carmilla winked at her in response as the woman muttered something else under her breath. Laura should have communicated something to rein Carmilla in, but the situation made her laugh because it was so unabashedly Carmilla. And she contrasted so beautifully against her repressive hometown that it made her smile. Carmilla smirked when she saw Laura’s reaction, and that smirk broke Laura’s smile completely free.  
  
“You ready to eat, Cupcake, or would you rather just head back to your place?” Carmilla asked, ignoring Olivia and Alex, who were still speechless across from them.  
  
“Let’s just go home,” Laura said, smiling bashfully at Carmilla.  
  
Carmilla held her gaze and smiled back, unrestrained, before shifting her hold on Laura’s hand to lace their fingers together. Laura could have sworn she saw the slightest hint of pink appear on her cheeks, but then Carmilla turned her away before she could confirm it.  
  
“Well, ladies,” she said to Laura’s antagonizers. “I can’t say it’s been a pleasure, but here’s to hoping you get a life for Christmas. This high school bully thing you’ve got going on is really pathetic and sad.” She took a step closer to Olivia and looked her directly in the eye. “Your crush on Laura is cute, if a little embarrassing. Because, the thing is, she’ll always be out of your league.” And then she started walking away, without sticking around to see Olivia’s or Alex’s reactions, but Laura saw Alex’s eyes go wide and Olivia’s darken in a rage that matched the red on her face as she watched Carmilla turn away.  
  
Laura had just managed to smile dopily, shrug her shoulders and wish them a “Merry Christmas” before Carmilla’s arm had extended to its furthest point before pulling Laura along.  
  
Carmilla didn’t let go of her hand until they arrived back at Laura’s car.


	6. Exposition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, thanks for reading my story and leaving me kudos and comments and all of that. This chapter tips us just over the halfway point, so it should all be posted within the next couple of weeks.
> 
> Second, while my story is really just a massive fluffball, this chapter is pretty angsty. I mention that by way of warning in case people have bully triggers. As was hinted in the last chapter, Laura hasn't had it easy. This gets into that, and it's long--more than twice as long as my last update. But I've tried to provide some levity throughout to make it a little less hard to read.
> 
> OK, that's all. Enjoy! I'll be back soon.

They didn’t go directly home after leaving the mall because they were both starving, having skipped over breakfast, and because Laura wasn’t ready to be confined in her house with Carmilla. No yet anyway.  
  
She took her instead to the Parlor Restaurant, a local diner geared more for the townies than the college crowd. Laura ushered them to a booth by the window in the back corner near the restrooms, away from the group of retired couples who probably came to the restaurant daily. They were easily the youngest people there.  
  
They hadn’t discussed what had happened at the mall, and Laura was convinced that Carmilla, for some chivalrous reason, wasn’t going to pry because Carmilla was weirdly chatty, filling their usual comfortable silence with a barrage of questions: What’s good to eat here? What time will your dad be home today? What do want to do this afternoon? What are your usual Christmas Eve plans?  
  
Laura was thankful she was trying so hard to normalize the situation and give Laura permission to not reveal large parts of her painful past, but Laura had already decided she wanted to tell Carmilla the whole story. She’d never had anyone she could tell before. Because, despite Laura’s ability to talk to anyone, she rarely talked about anything too personal. Not to Betty, her roommate her freshman year, not to Perry or LaFontaine. Not even to Danny, who before their November fallout came the closest to someone Laura could confide in. The last person she expected to trust with her humiliation and pain was her prickly and condescending roommate, who had never shown even the slightest interest in Laura’s life or made any attempt to get to know her. Even now, Carmilla kept her distance, but Laura wasn’t put off or intimidated by it. She’d witnessed Carmilla come to rescue—no questions asked—slaying Laura’s arch nemesis before her eyes.  
  
The waitress had just finished taking their orders: a cheeseburger, fries and Coke for Carmilla and a BLT, fries and sweet iced tea for Laura, when Laura launched into it.  
  
“Thanks for sticking up for me back there,” she said, not meeting Carmilla’s eyes and fiddling with a packet of Sweet N Low she had no intention of opening.  
  
“Don’t worry about it,” Carmilla said. “I didn’t really do anything anyway.  
  
Laura looked up at Carmilla and saw her staring out the window. “I think we both know that isn’t true. I was seconds away from spiraling into a panic attack, to tell you the truth.”  
  
Carmilla turned her head away from the window and met Laura’s eyes. Laura thought she could detect the smallest bit of worry in them.  
  
“I used to have them all the time—in middle school,” she continued, “so it’s been a while, and I guess I wasn’t prepared. But then you came and calmed me down and put Olivia in her place. Thank you is entirely too inadequate, but thanks anyway.”  
  
Carmilla didn’t say anything, opting instead to roll her eyes and smirk. Laura smiled and shook her head and then threw the Sweet N Low packet at Carmilla’s head, hitting her square on her forehead. Laura couldn’t control her laughter when Carmilla’s jaw dropped in shock.  
  
“Who’s that Olivia girl anyway?” she asked, now that Laura had opened the topic up for discussion. And then she tossed the offending sweetener aside.  
  
“My mortal enemy,” Laura answered humorlessly, shaking her head. “I’ve known her my whole life, basically. We’ve never been friends.”  
  
“Can’t imagine why not.”  
  
“Yeah. She’s not very nice. Never has been. Weirdly, she has a twin brother and he’s actually really nice, so I don’t know what happened to her.”  
  
“And the other girl?” Carmilla asked.  
  
“Alex,” Laura answered, offering no other information.  
  
Carmilla didn’t say anything but raised her eyebrows at Laura as if she knew there was more to the story. Their waitress interrupted that moment to bring them their drinks and Carmilla took a sip from her straw.  
  
“My mom died when I was in seventh grade,” Laura began, unprompted, after the waitress left them alone again. “It was a big deal in the life of this town, as she was a beloved high school teacher, who was killed, ironically, by one of her students, the town golden boy, who had decided to drive home drunk from a party. For months I was the object of pity. Neither my dad nor I could go anywhere without anyone whispering or pointing in our presence. It was uncomfortable at the best of times. I was never a popular kid—always a bit weird and socially awkward and talked too much about things no one—except for me—cared anything about.” Carmilla’s mouth twitched into a smile, but she didn’t say anything. “And suddenly I was popular. But not in the way you’d expect. I didn’t suddenly eat lunch with the cool kids or hang out with them at the mall on the weekends, but they at least acknowledged my existence. No one was making fun of my giant bucked teeth or my lack of breasts or the fact that my parents wouldn’t let me shave my legs yet.  
  
“It was this weird little moment of reprieve. And it lasted all of three months because in May, Aaron Mackey, the kid who killed my mom, had just been sentenced. He was dinged with impaired driving as a minor and involuntary manslaughter and he would spend the next year of his life—his senior year—in prison, which in the state of Ohio meant that he’d gotten the most lenient sentence possible.  
  
“By this time my mother’s death was old news, I suppose, so even though my life was still in disarray, the town had moved on and could now mourn the loss of their brightest star in the prime of his life. It didn’t help that he was the best chance the high school football team had to go to state the following year, and now he’d have to spend that time locked away.  
  
“The problem for me was that Dylan Mackey, Aaron’s younger brother, was in my class. And like his brother, he was destined to be a star. He was easily the best athlete in the middle school. All the boys wanted to be his friend and all the girls wanted to be his girlfriend, none more so than Olivia Borden.” Carmilla groaned but didn’t otherwise interrupt.  
  
“She was mean,” Laura said, continuing her story. “I still don’t understand why or where it came from, but she probably blamed me for ruining Aaron and Dylan’s lives. And she could concede it was sad I lost my mom but—“ Laura used air quotes while she recited the words she’d never forget—“’Your mom is dead, and ruining the Mackeys’ lives isn’t going to bring your mom back.’”  
  
Their food arrived at that moment and Carmilla thanked the waitress since Laura turned her head to face the window when she arrived in an effort to hide the tears that had started to fall from her eyes. Neither of them made a movement towards their newly-arrived food, though Carmilla did reach across the table to squeeze Laura’s hand.  
  
Laura continued, her hunger momentarily forgotten. “Olivia was too young to understand the legal battle that took place regarding Aaron Mackey. She didn’t know my dad had begged the prosecutor for leniency, maybe a heavy dose of community service and mandatory counseling, and he did get the lightest sentence possible, but it was still a big blow for anyone Aaron’s age. I get that. I do. And my mom would have hated knowing any of her students had to suffer the way Aaron had, but I had nothing to do with what happened to Aaron and, quite frankly, I didn’t give a shit what did happen since he was the reason my mom was dead. And to have Olivia belittle my mother’s death and somehow blame me and my dad for everything that was happening made it infinitely worse.”  
  
She didn’t try to hide her tears. There was no point. Carmilla wasn’t judging her, and she wasn’t pitying her. Instead, she picked up a French fry and said, “I’m sorry I didn’t punch her earlier, Laura,” and then popped the fry into her mouth.  
  
Carmilla’s comment elicited a laugh from Laura, and Laura picked up one of the cut halves of her BLT and took a bite. Carmilla joined her in eating her burger.  
  
“I got really depressed,” Laura continued, between bites of her sandwich. “And my dad, still mourning and adjusting to being a single parent, didn’t know what to do. He thought of pulling me out of school or sending me to go live with one of my aunts, but he couldn’t. I was all he had left. School was almost over anyway, so I toughed it out until the end of the year. And then, when school ended, he took me to Disney World for a week and signed me up for intensive Krav Maga courses all summer and hoped the break would be long enough for everyone to cool off.”  
  
“Your poor dad underestimated the potential viciousness of teenaged girls,” Carmilla remarked, shaking her head and taking another bite of her burger.  
  
“He really did,” Laura agreed with a heavy laugh. “But it did get better, because that fall I met Alex Sobek.”  
  
Carmilla raised her eyes from her plate, confirming Laura’s suspicions that Carmilla was too polite to ask about Alex directly but was curious about her just the same.  
  
“Alex was new to our school in eighth grade,” Laura began. “Her dad was offered a full professor position in the psychology department, so the entire family relocated from Wisconsin. Eighth grade is a tough time to start new anywhere, and she was always a little bit shy, so she didn’t make friends easily. So we kind of became friends by default since I didn’t have that many friends either at the time. And it was so nice having someone around who didn’t know me when my mom died or when all the other drama took place. And she liked a lot of the same nerdy stuff I did. I mean, we’d get into heated debates about which doctor was the best doctor in _Doctor Who_.” She took a moment to smirk at Carmilla and proclaim: “The answer is always ten. Don’t let anyone ever tell you anyone played that role better than David Tennant.” She winked for good measure and Carmilla shook her head.  
  
“Somehow I don’t think I’m ever going to have that debate with anyone, Creampuff.”  
  
Laura rolled her eyes and then mumbled a conceding “shut up” under her breath before continuing her narrative.  
  
“It’s all pretty cliché, actually. We became friends, and then that morphed into being best friends and then I panicked when it occurred to me that I had a giant crush on her, and not in a friend kind of way.”  
  
Carmilla chuckled. “How old were you at this point?” she asked.  
  
“It was the summer between ninth and tenth grade. I remember the moment, too. We were at the community pool on a really hot day—“  
  
“And you saw her in a bikini and you caught the gay?”  
  
“No,” Laura said laughing. “I’m pouring my heart out to you here. Stop interrupting.” Carmilla held her hands up in surrender, allowing Laura to continue.  
  
“I’d seen her in a bikini before then, so it wasn’t a physical thing, even if she did rock a bikini. She was a club-level soccer player, and I could definitely appreciate how all that hard work paid off,” Laura said, turning red.  
  
“I’m sure you did, Perv,” Carmilla said after taking a sip of her Coke and winking at Laura.  
  
Laura picked a French fry off of her plate and threw in Carmilla’s direction, hitting her shoulder. Carmilla picked it up from where it had fallen on her lap and put it in her mouth. “Did you not just hear me tell you to stop interrupting?” she asked, but she wasn’t mad. She appreciated that they’d somehow taken a break from the heaviness of her seventh grade year. “I’m in the middle of telling you the story of a great existential crisis I was having in high school and you’re not helping.”  
  
“Sorry. Go on,” Carmilla said in mock seriousness.  
  
“Anyway, I knew that I had more than friendly feelings for her when, at the pool, Evan Reis, a kid on the boys’ soccer team, came over to us and starting flirting with her and she flirted back! I was suddenly irrationally jealous of Evan, a kid I’d probably never spoken to and didn’t have any particular reason to hate. He asked her to the movies and she giggled and said yes and then they both spent the rest of the afternoon hanging out.”  
  
“Ouch,” Carmilla said.  
  
“Yeah. And Alex wasn’t a jerk about it. She tried to include me, but, I mean, why would I want to be around her and Evan any more than I had to be, you know?” Carmilla nodded, but didn’t open her mouth. “It was pretty gross. They were together for a couple of months in tenth grade and I had to witness a few makeouts and hear all about how cute Evan was and how well he kissed and how he wasn’t pressuring her to go all the way. And she kept trying to get me to go out with one of his friends—I’m not even sure who because none of his friends ever acknowledged me, but she was sure she could make it happen—but no thank you. And by the time the Homecoming dance came around in October, she begged me to go with Evan’s cousin, who didn’t go to our school, so she would have someone to go with, but I couldn’t do it.”  
  
“Did you eventually tell her?” Carmilla asked, bravely stopping Laura’s story again.  
  
“She eventually found out,” Laura said, so that the distinction would not be lost on Carmilla. “But that didn’t happen for more than a year later. But first I had my dad to deal with because, well, he’s always been protective. I’m his only child and I’ve always been the smallest one in my class and, you know, odd by normal kid standards, even though adults always loved me, which is kind of a clue that I was socially inept among my peer group,” Laura rambled on. Carmilla raised her eyebrows and hid another smirk behind her glass of Coke. “But after my mom died he was even more protective, more concerned. He just wanted me to be happy, I guess, and the fact that I didn’t make friends easily didn’t sit well with him. And I think even though he was probably happy I wasn’t dating anyone, I think he thought it was weird that I didn’t express a desire to date anyone. I didn’t have posters of anyone on my walls, except for David Tennet as the Doctor, and my dad knew I didn’t have a weird crush on him. And by this time I had figured out I wasn't just Alex-sexual. I understood why I loved Faith on _Buffy_ and why I never cared whether Buffy chose Angel or Spike, or why I didn't have a crush on Dylan Mackey when everyone else did, or why I was basically obsessed with my one female Krav Maga instructor. It just made sense all of a sudden.  
  
“Gah! I’m rambling. Sorry. So Alex was over one night in October having dinner with us, which was pretty common, and my dad was asking how she was adjusting to tenth grade and how the soccer team was doing and all the usual stuff, and she mentions Evan and Homecoming and tells him that she’s really excited about it, and that I’d helped her pick out her dress for it and how it was the first dance she was attending with a date—all that stuff. And my dad kept glancing at me throughout the conversation, a curious expression on his face that I couldn’t quite place.  
  
“It wasn’t until hours later, after Alex’s mom came to pick her up, when I was getting my lunch ready for the next day that he asked me why I wasn’t going to Homecoming. I should have just shrugged him off and told him something along the lines of how high school dances are dumb and I’d rather stay home and watch _The Vicar of Dibley_ on PBS, but I was freaking out about the fact that I had a crush on my best friend, and she was a _she_ , and she already had a date for the dance, and even if she didn’t, I wouldn’t be able to ask her to the dance because, hello, _she’s_ a _she_ , and she really seemed to like this dumb boy she couldn’t stop sucking face with. So I was a bit defensive, I guess, and it came out more like: ‘Why do care so much about me going to a stupid dance?’  
  
“Now I realize that’s not the worst reaction a teen-aged girl could have, and it was probably pretty normal, but we’ve already established that I wasn’t a normal kid,” Laura smirked again in Carmilla’s direction and Carmilla winked and smiled. “But I never spoke to my dad that way, so he immediately knew something wasn’t right, and he called me on it. After I mumbled an apology, he asked me why I really wasn’t going to the dance. And then—it was actually really cute—he asked: ‘Is there anyone you’d want to go to the dance with? A boy?’ and then he hesitated before he said, ‘or maybe a girl?’ And I had, like, no chill at all because my head snapped up and I looked at him like a dear in headlights, I’m sure, so he knew. He knew. And he sort of smirked, but didn’t say anything, letting me handle it however I was going to handle it, so I just said to him, like it wasn’t the scariest thing I’ve ever said, I said: ‘There are never going to be any boys I want to go to dances with. And, in this town, there probably won’t be any girls either, but I don’t think I’d mind that.’ I couldn’t look at him. I felt really hot all over and my palms were sweating. It was the first time I’d ever admitted it out loud and I was freaking out. But my dad, he just picked up his mug from the counter and said, ‘Okay, then. Glad we could sort that out,’ and gave me a kiss and said ‘I love you, kiddo. Always have, always will' before he returned to family room, as if what had just transpired wasn’t a big deal.”  
  
Carmilla sighed and said, “That could have been a lot worse than it was. You’re really lucky.”  
  
Laura wasn’t sure if there was something more behind that comment, but Carmilla didn’t look upset, so she ignored it and smiled, because Carmilla was right, she was lucky. “I know. Believe me, I know.”  
  
They had finished eating, but Laura wasn’t ready to leave. Besides, it was Christmas Eve and Parlor Restaurant made really good pecan pie. “Do you want dessert?” she asked Carmilla. “Their sundaes are really good, but their pie is to die for.”  
  
Carmilla shrugged her shoulders but nodded her head. “There’s still more about Alex I want to know,” she admitted.  
  
Laura smirked. “It’s not that interesting.”  
  
“I doubt that.”  
  
Laura ignored her and beckoned the waitress back to their table and ordered them each a slice of pecan pie and a coffee for Carmilla and then started her story again.  
  
“Alex and Evan broke up the week after Homecoming. Apparently he danced with his ex-girlfriend most of the night, and Alex didn’t appreciate it. I tried to be sad for her, I did, but I was too excited that Evan would no longer be around that I didn’t have it in me to be sympathetic. Things went back to normal, except for the fact that my crush only seemed to get bigger and I felt like a jerk for creeping on my best friend. Things started to change, though, the summer before our senior year. We basically lived at each other’s houses that summer. And, I’m not sure how it happened, but we started to get a lot more tactile than we’d ever been before. Like, we’d watch a movie and cuddle on the couch or she would loop her arm into mine if we’d walk somewhere and we hugged, like, a lot. It was maddening, but I didn’t mind,” she laughed, “and I could sense her mother was concerned about our relationship because she would say things to Alex like: ‘I bumped into Seth Condrath’s mother at the grocery store today, and she mentioned that he volunteers at the same soccer camp you do. You should hang out with Seth. Maybe go to the movies or get ice cream or something.’ Or she’d say to me: ‘How come I never see you with a boyfriend, Laura? You’re a pretty girl. I’m sure the boys are lining up to take you out.’ And, towards the end of the summer, if I was at Alex’s house during the week and it was getting late, she’d say: ‘It’s getting late, Alex, and your father and I have to work tomorrow, so say bye to Laura’ even though I’d spent the night many times that summer. If she said anything to Alex about it when I wasn’t there, Alex never mentioned it, but at some point that summer, her mom started treating me differently, and I was too afraid to ask Alex why.  
  
“So we started to hang out more at my house. My dad liked when I was home anyway, and he liked Alex and he wasn’t weird about our friendship, even if he did ask me one time if we were together. I think I turned bright red but emphatically denied it, and he didn’t mention it again. But two weeks before the start of school we were in my room watching some _Bend It Like Beckham_ on my bed for the umpteenth time because it was her favorite movie and because, hello, it has Keira Knightley in it, so it was basically a win-win for us. I wasn’t paying much attention, too busy trying to regulate my breathing as Alex kept rubbing her thumb slightly against my hip, as she had her head on my shoulder and her arm draped across me. But half way through the movie, she turned to me and said, ‘I’ve been thinking about that fact that you’ve never kissed anyone.’ And I moved away a little bit so I could see her face and tried to laugh it off as I asked her why she was thinking of me kissing. Or not kissing, I guess. ‘You’re seventeen,’ she said, removing her arm from my torso and putting all her weight onto her elbow, ‘you should have kissed someone by now.’ ‘Says who?’ I asked somewhat defensively. ‘And besides, we’re missing an important component in the kissing game. It takes two people to kiss. And in case you’re unaware, no one is lining up to kiss me.’ And then the rest of it happened slowly, as clichéd as that sounds. She sat up fully, taking up the spot right next to me against the wall, so our shoulders were touching, and she grabbed my chin with her hand to move it to face her fully and then looked down at my lips while simultaneously licking her own lips before she kissed me. It was chaste but it lingered, and when she pulled back she smiled a bit before opening her eyes to meet my own. And before I could overthink it and before she said anything to break whatever spell had been cast between us, I kissed her. Only this time it wasn’t nearly as chaste or as short, and when she threaded her fingers into my hair to cradle my head, I moaned, which only seemed to spur her on, and we kissed until we couldn’t breathe anymore. And before I could panic about what had happened she smiled again and said: ‘That was better than how I imagined it.’ Then I freaked out because what the hell was even happening. ‘Wait, are you gay?’ I asked her. But instead of answering she asked, ‘Are you?’ I told her yes, and then, as bravely as I could, I told her ‘I’ve had a crush on you for almost two years.’ That made her smile, and she kissed me again, but pulled back before it went anywhere. ‘I don’t know what I am, but I know I like kissing you—more than I liked kissing Evan,’ she said, and so we kissed and kissed until the movie ended and it was magical, Carmilla. I felt like Jack Dawson in _Titanic_ , screaming like a lunatic on the ship’s bow.”  
  
“Jack Dawson drowned in a freezing ocean, Laura, after Rose swore she wouldn’t let go,” Carmilla said, smiling at Laura’s teenaged  euphoria.  
  
“Yeah,” Laura laughed. “But it was a fun eight or so months before everything went to shit. We basically kept making out for the whole of our senior year. We didn’t talk about what we were doing after that first night, and it was understood that we couldn’t say anything to anyone about whatever was going on. Looking back, I should have been offended that all the touching we’d started in the summer stopped as soon as the school year began, and it seemed like Alex tried to keep her distance at school, hanging out with the soccer kids and that crowd. It didn’t bother me, though, because I knew what I had with her after school, when none of these people were around, was everything.”  
  
“So what happened?” Carmilla asked.  
  
“Prom happened. I asked her if she wanted to go to prom with me and she freaked out.”  
  
Carmilla’s eyebrows shot up. “You actually invited her to prom. Here?” she asked, gesturing around the restaurant. “You’ve got some serious Gryffindor chutzpah, Hollis.”  
  
“Not exactly,” Laura shrugged. “I had no hope she’d go as my date, but people went as friends to these things all the time—“  
  
“Not to prom, they don’t,” Carmilla interrupted.  
  
“That’s what Alex’s argument was,” Laura sighed. “I backed off after that—didn’t push it. I resigned myself to the fact that I wasn’t going to my senior prom, which wasn’t such a huge deal since I went the year before with a kid from my church who asked me to go with him, but I’d but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t disappointed.”  
  
“And things got weird after that?” Carmilla asked. “All that PG-13 kissing and heavy petting ended?”  
  
Laura couldn’t stop the smile that appeared on her face as she shook her head and flipped Carmilla off. “I never said anything about heavy petting, you asshole.”  
  
“So you’re saying that’s not what was happening?” Carmilla smirked, raising her left eyebrow up in challenge.  
  
“I hate you,” Laura laughed again. “But to answer your original question, no, it didn’t end. Not immediately, anyway. As if she could just quit kissing these lips so suddenly,” she said with more confidence than she believed.  
  
Carmilla’s eyebrow shot up again, but she didn’t challenge it.  
  
“In the aftermath of that argument about prom, as we were making up,” she’d said coyly, “we got a bit careless, and her mom walked in on us making out on Alex’s bed, with my hands stuck under her shirt. Alex saw her first and she threw me off of her and I fell onto the floor on my back. Mrs. Sobek didn’t look at me when she told Alex that ‘It’s time for Laura to leave’ in a tone that nobody would dare challenge and closed the door behind her. I looked over to Alex, who looked as scared as I felt and I tried to get her attention, but when I said her name, she told me to leave in a tone that left me cold.  
  
“I tried calling and texting her to see if she was okay, to see how it had gone with her mom after I left, but she didn’t reply to my messages or call me back. When I saw her at school on Monday, I saw her holding hands with Owen Borden, Olivia’s twin, and even though I tried talking to her, she ignored me. It was Owen who told me in our AP English class that he’d asked Alex to prom over the weekend and she’d said yes. I didn’t ask him how it’d all gone down.  
  
“For the rest of the week she wouldn’t talk to me. She wouldn’t even look my way. After a week of trying to get Alex to talk me, she finally snapped at the end of school one day, and in the middle of the hall, in front of her locker, she said loudly: ‘Can you not take a hint, Laura? I don’t like you that way. I’m not like you. I tried to let down gently after you asked me to prom, but you just won’t leave it. I’m telling you—once and for all—to leave me alone,’ before she slammed her locker closed and walked away, leaving me stunned and shaking after she outed me in front of the whole school."  
  
She felt Carmilla's feet bump hers under the table, and when she looked at her she saw only compassion. "Don't ever beat yourself up for the shit other people did to you. You're worth so much more than that," she said seriously. "But I'm so sorry that happened to you." And then she smiled so warmly that Laura believed her.  
  
Laura let out a shaky sigh and rubbed her eyes so that the tears that had accumulated around her eyes didn't fall and tried to smile at Carmilla to convey she was okay. Carmilla kept her feet tangled between Laura's in what Laura supposed to be her way of keeping contact with her, and thus continuing to comfort her.  
  
"I went home and cried all night that night. Thankfully my dad had gone into Cleveland to see a jazz show with some friends, so he didn't have to witness me breaking all over again. But the harassment started late that night. I kept getting anonymous texts and emails telling me I was a pervert and that I was lucky Alex's family wasn't getting a restraining order against me and that I should think twice about going to school on Monday. It was so scared.  
  
"I wanted to stay home sick on Monday, but I didn't want to have to explain to my dad what happened. He was already freaking out because I walked around like a zombie all weekend, but I wasn't showing any signs of physical sickness, so I went to school.  
  
"I walked through the halls with my head down, but I heard how the noise level went nearly silent as I walked towards my first class, and I could hear the whispered words that were only about me. Sometimes I even heard the slurs, when some boy was trying to impress his friends and elicit a laugh or a high five. I was a pariah all over again. It sucked," she said with a sad sigh. "But then it got worse because then Olivia decided she wanted to make my life a bigger hell than it was.  
  
"She was relentless. If I so much as looked at girl for a brief moment, she'd loudly proclaim that I was perving on her to get everyone's attention. If I sat down to eat lunch at a table with a single girl on it, she'd walk up to the table and warn the girl or girls that I was probably trying to flirt or look down their shirts. If she saw me go into the bathroom, she would follow me in and yell, 'There's a lesbian in here, ladies. Be on guard' and then leave."  
  
"Jesus," Carmilla said, as she wrapped Laura's right foot between both of hers.  
  
"I mean, the stuff she pulled sounds insane, I know it does, but it was real. And it had the desired effect of making everyone uncomfortable. And the worst part was, because Alex was dating her brother, Alex was hanging out with her now. And she wouldn't even look at me. So I did my best to avoid everyone. I only had a month left of school and then I would be done and I could avoid everyone before I left for Silas where I could start fresh."  
  
Carmilla didn't say anything when Laura finished. But she got up and walked towards the middle of the restaurant and paid the bill. When she returned she dropped a very generous tip on the table and beckoned Laura up with an outstretched hand.  
  
"Let's go home," she finally said, helping her up by grabbing her hand. When Laura got to her feet, Carmilla pulled her into a tight hug and held her for what felt like a long time. And then she moved her hands up and threaded them through Laura's hair, cradling her head as she looked directly into Laura's tear-stained eyes. "You are the kindest and bravest person I've ever met. Don't you ever forget that. And I'm so lucky that you took a chance on me, your rude and difficult roommate," she said with a smirk and mirth in her eyes. "Thanks for inviting me here and thanks for trusting me with this part of you. For what it's worth, I think you're amazing." And then she kissed the top of Laura's head with such a gentleness that Laura started to cry. Carmilla held her hand as they walked out of the restaurant and went home.


	7. The Rest of Christmas Eve

Carmilla didn’t leave Laura’s side the rest of the day. Nothing was said about Alex or Olivia or anything related to Laura’s adolescent trauma since they left the restaurant, but Carmilla kept close to Laura, and Laura didn’t mind. She was exhausted, emotionally spent from the morning, and even though she knew she had to start preparing dinner and that her father was bound to walk through the door at any moment, Laura couldn’t be bothered to get up from where she was lying on the couch, her head in Carmilla’s lap, while Carmilla’s fingers lazily massaged her scalp. She wasn’t even sure if Carmilla was aware of what she was doing.

As soon as they’d gotten home earlier, Carmilla ushered Laura into the family room and returned a couple of minutes later with her laptop and a cable, which she connected from her computer to the television. She sat on the end of the couch, fiddling with her computer until she found what she was looking for.

“ _The Nightmare Before Christmas_?” Laura asked from the other side of the couch, looking at her TV.

Carmilla turned to her and smirked. “I’ve sat through all your Christmas movies, Buddy. You can sit through the only one I actually like.”

“Did you just make an _Elf_ reference?” Laura asked, smiling.

“The similarities between the two of you are pretty hard to miss. Except for the height difference. You may _actually_ be elf-size.” Carmilla winked at Laura before pressing play on her computer.

“You’re such a jerk,” Laura said through an eye roll, but she wasn’t offended. “And you’re barely taller than me.”

Carmilla sighed and turned her head back to face Laura. “First, it’s your fault I even know who Buddy the Elf is since you made me watch that movie the other day. Second, ‘barely taller’ is still taller, Sweetheart.” She turned her head back towards the TV and grabbed one of the throws they’d been using throughout the week to cover herself and settled into the chaise part of the sectional. “Now shut up and watch the movie.”

And so she did.

She lasted about twenty minutes sitting up before she grabbed the blanket that was draped across the back of the sofa and, without asking or thinking about it too hard, lay across the couch, using Carmilla’s left thigh as a pillow. Carmilla’s body stiffened at first contact, but then she relaxed and shook her head. Looking down at Laura, she smiled. “Comfortable?” she asked, but she didn’t ask her to move.

“Now I am,” Laura answered, throwing a challenging smirk at Carmilla, who simply rolled her eyes and rested her left arm across the back of the sofa.

Eventually Carmilla’s arm moved. It rested on Laura’s left shoulder first and remained perfectly still for a few more minutes before Carmilla started running her fingertips up and down Laura’s arm. Laura hoped Carmilla didn’t notice the goosebumps that had suddenly appeared, but she didn’t dare move. Whatever Carmilla was doing was soothing and calming and she didn’t want to bring attention to it in case she embarrassed Carmilla and the touching stopped. Some minutes later Carmilla’s hand shifted again, playing with the strands of hair around Laura’s ear, following them down to their tips, over and over. Laura wished she knew what Carmilla was thinking but she hadn’t sensed Carmilla’s eyes shifting to her, though she couldn’t be sure, as she kept her eyes glued to the screen in front of her. It wasn’t much longer before Carmilla’s fingers were on her scalp, gently massaging Laura’s head as Jack Skellington and his sleigh fell from the sky. It took all of Laura’s concentration to suppress any sounds that threatened to escape at Carmilla’s touch. It wasn’t sexual, per se; it just felt so good. She figured Carmilla must have been in some sort of trance because what other explanation could there be for what had happened throughout the film? Laura didn’t want the movie to end, even if she’d basically stopped paying attention when Carmilla’s hand started moving up and down her arm.

They remained in the same positions for a few more minutes. Neither of them heard the front door open, so neither of them registered Bill’s presence until he walked over to the family room through the kitchen and stopped so suddenly that Laura and Carmilla immediately look over at him. Carmilla removed her hand from Laura’s head, but Laura didn’t otherwise move from her position on Carmilla’s lap. Laura watched her father try to process what he’d just seen, but he didn’t say anything.

“Hey, dad,” Laura said more smoothly than she felt, believing that as long as she didn’t make the scene weird, it wouldn’t be weird.

“Hi,” he said cautiously. “What’d you girls get up to today?” He looked equal parts apprehensive and confused.

“We went to the mall and had lunch at Parlor,” Laura responded. “Then Carmilla forced this Halloween movie on me even though it’s Christmas Eve.”

Carmilla scoffed above Laura. “What about this doesn’t look like a Christmas movie to you, Laura? Santa is right there,” she said, pointing to the screen. “Disney decorates an entire ride at Christmas based on this movie!” she added.

“Relax, Carm,” Laura said, reluctantly sitting up. She put her hand on Carmilla’s knee, near where her head had just been. “I’m only teasing you.” Then, turning to her father she asked, “Did you pick up the beer and brats on your way home?”

“Everything’s in the fridge or counter,” he replied smiling. “Anyway, I’m going to get changed, so I’ll let you finish your movie, but then the Hollisdays officially begin. I hope you’re ready, Carmilla.” He turned and left the room before Carmilla could reply.

“’Hollisdays’? Brats?” Carmilla asked, her left eyebrow raised for emphasis.

Laura smiled mysteriously back at her but ignored her questions. “Let’s finish the movie, Carmilla.” She didn’t lie back down.

 

Bill’s presence didn’t keep Carmilla away from Laura, although the prolonged touching ceased. But Laura noticed Carmilla would still touch her every now and then—small, barely-there touches that communicated that Carmilla was somehow still trying to comfort her—a squeeze on her shoulder or a pat on her lower back or tucking an errant strand of hair behind her ear when she was chopping the potatoes or shelling peas.  It was weird for Laura, at first, but she didn’t say anything to Carmilla, and after the first couple of times it happened, she accepted it and desired for it to happen more. But she had dinner to prepare, so she didn’t dwell on whatever was happening for very long.

After the movie, they’d gone to the kitchen. Laura eyed a bag of potatoes sitting on the counter, along with another smaller bag of peas. She started gathering the items she’d need when Carmilla asked if she could help. Laura smiled and handed her the colander and peeler and pointed to the bag of potatoes, and Carmilla nodded and started on her task. Laura, meanwhile, opened up a few cans of beer and poured them into a pot and then added the brats to it before turning her attention to shelling the peas.

“Brats seem like an unusual Christmas Eve meal,” Carmilla observed.

“Yeah, I suppose,” Laura agreed, wondering how much she should explain before shaking her head and remembering that she was talking to Carmilla—the girl she’d spent a good chunk of her day vomiting all her darkest truths to—the girl who was still there providing comfort and help.

“My mom did all of the cooking in our house,” Laura began. “So when she died, he was at a loss on what to do. The guy couldn’t even fry an egg.”

Carmilla laughed. “Your dad doesn’t strike me as someone who would be confined by all those bullshit social mores that defined ‘men’s work’ and ‘women’s work.’”

“He was simply a product of his upbringing,” Laura defended. “But you’re right. He would tell you you’re right.

“Anyway, at first it wasn’t a big deal. Friends and neighbors supplied us with what seemed at the time an endless supply of casseroles, and my aunts would come over and cook fresh meals a couple of times a week. And I cooked some, too, having learned a few things from my mom, but I hadn’t built up a proper repertoire or anything by that time. Most of the time my dad just picked something up on the way home from work. By the time Christmas rolled around, the consolation meals had long stopped, and my dad wanted to do something special so that our first Christmas with her wouldn’t be so morose. He was determined to make a home-cooked meal, but the only thing he could make was hot dogs and hamburgers on the grill, and I guess he figured bratwurst was a fancier version of that,” she said laughing. “The peas came out of a freezer bag and the potatoes came from a box that first year, but he tried and he was proud. And since then, it’s been our Christmas Eve tradition,” she finished, smiling.

Carmilla looked at Laura and smiled. It was radiant and warm and, fuck, Laura knew she was in trouble. She looked down at the bowl of peas.

“Well, I’m never going to complain about bangers and mash,” she heard Carmilla say. “I have an unhealthy love of traditional pub food.”

“I don’t think I would have ever guessed that,” Laura said, scrunching her eyebrows together and turning to look at Carmilla. She shelled the last few and placed the bowl into the refrigerator and walked closer to Carmilla so that she could begin chopping the potatoes. “I hope you also like German Chocolate Cake because that’s what we get to make next.”

“No pie?” Carmilla asked, raising her left eyebrow again.

“My dad sort of went with a German theme. So only German beers, too. You’ll get the more traditional Christmas meal at my aunt’s house tomorrow.”

“Traditional is overrated. And as the lesbian daughter or a decorated Army officer, I would know. Plus, I was born in Germany, remember?” Carmilla said with a wink.

 

Laura pretended not to notice the looks her father was throwing her and Carmilla’s way during dinner, but other than him being weird, which she didn’t think Carmilla even picked up on, dinner went really well. Carmilla and Laura didn’t even sit next to each other, so she wasn’t sure what her dad was trying to figure out. Carmilla entertained the table with stories about her three months working at McDonald’s when she was fifteen, before she got fired for showing up her manager in front of a customer he was trying to flirt with when the girl gave Carmilla her phone number and didn’t look twice at her manager. “He was gross,” she explained about her manager. “And anyway, I was sort of giving away apple pies to the girls I thought were cute, so it’s not like I wouldn’t have had it coming eventually.”

“What did your dad say?” Bill asked, laughing at Carmilla.

“He wasn’t happy, especially since ‘getting a job and earning your own money is an important lesson, Carmilla,’” she said in a voice Laura suspected was supposed to sound like her father’s. “But he admitted that McDonald’s probably wasn’t my best plan. He arranged, instead, that I go work with his friend’s wife, who worked at the local public library. I spent few days a week re-stocking shelves and finding misshelved books. It wasn’t the worst job.”

“That’s fine praise for the library profession,” Bill said laughing. “It’s not a bad career to consider,” he added, winking at Carmilla.

“And deal with all the crazies that come into the library every day? No thank you. You’re spared from all that at your college library.”

“You’d be surprised, but I get your point.”

After dinner, Bill offered to do dishes since Laura and Carmilla had prepared the meal. Laura told Carmilla she was going to take a nap, so that she didn’t fall asleep during Midnight Mass. Surprisingly, Carmilla didn’t follow her upstairs, and Laura didn’t know if she was upset or relieved about it. When she woke an hour and a half later, she wandered downstairs and found her father and Carmilla embroiled in another game of chess while _It’s a Wonderful Life_ played unwatched on the TV beside them.

Carmilla saw her first, acknowledging her with a small smile that Laura was becoming addicted to. Her dad followed Carmilla’s eyes and smiled his own special smile he reserved for Laura only and greeted her with a “Sleep well, kiddo?”

Laura nodded and sat down on the couch and looked at her phone. LaFontaine sent her a text wishing her a Merry Christmas Eve and asked how the week with “the roommate” was going. Laura didn’t feel like entering into a big discussion on Carmilla via text, so she turned her body so that she could take a selfie with Carmilla and her dad playing chess in the background and then gave a thumbs up to the camera before snapping the photo and sending it off to LaFontaine and hoped that would satisfy her friend for the time being.

Laura stared at the TV, still groggy from her nap. Despite her unabashed love for Christmas films, she actually hated _It’s a Wonderful Life_. It was her mother’s favorite, her father often reminded her, and she did feel slightly disloyal for not liking it, but, she would argue, “It’s not a Christmas film. Just because there’s a Christmas tree in a movie doesn’t make it a Christmas movie.” She’d had that argument with her aunts and once with Danny, oddly enough, after Danny found out about her love of Christmas films. “ _Die Hard_ is more of a Christmas movie than that overly long and boring saga of George Bailey.” Okay, so she had _very_ strong feelings about the film. She would have turned the channel but not with her dad in the room. He watched it every year in honor of her mom, and not even a grumpy Laura would deny him that. Thankfully, the chess game ended ten minutes after she sat down. She laughed with she heard her father triumphantly proclaim, “Checkmate. Finally!” because until that point he had yet to beat Carmilla at the game. Carmilla gave him a genuine smile and then shook his hand and then stood and walked over to sit near Laura on the couch. Her dad excused himself, telling them he was going get ready for church and call Vivian, and Laura didn’t even roll her eyes, which she considered a victory of sorts.

“You didn’t let my dad win, did you?” she asked Carmilla, eying her suspiciously when she was sure her dad was out of earshot.

Carmilla look a bit offended. “Of course not. Your dad earned that victory fair and square.”

Laura wasn’t sure if she believed her, but she really didn’t care.

“What time are we leaving for church?” Carmilla asked.

Laura looked at her with suspicion again. “I thought you said there was no way in hell you were going to go to church.”

“Yeah. I did, but I kind of want to be there in case—“

“I don’t need you to protect me, you know,” Laura stated a tad sternly. She was so tired of people treating her like she was some delicate flower or something. “I can take care of myself.”

“I know that, Cutie. Trust me. I was thinking more along the lines of protecting them against you. I’ve seen the Krav Maga trophies and medals around this house. I know exactly what you’re capable of.” Laura let out a breath and smirked at Carmilla. “And as much as I would love it if you leveled either one of them with punch, I don’t want you to end up in prison on Christmas day.”

Laura didn’t care if Carmilla was lying to her or not. She was just happy that Carmilla was on her side. So Laura smiled at her and said, “We’ll be leaving at  ten thirty.”

 

Carmilla looked uncomfortable sitting on the wooden pew in the small Anglican church. “You haven’t burst into flames yet, Carm. I think you’re in the clear,” Laura teased.

“You’re funny, Cupcake,” Carmilla said, but she relaxed a bit, grabbing the _Book of Common Prayer_ and flipping through the pages.

They didn’t see Alex, which didn’t surprise Laura since her family was Catholic, but she did spot the Bordens, including Olivia in a pew across the aisle and a few rows ahead of theirs. She grabbed Carmilla’s hand to get her attention and then pointed towards the back of Olivia’s head. Carmilla squeezed her hand in support but then quickly let go.

It wasn’t until communion that Olivia saw Laura. It happened when Laura and her dad stood in the line, waiting for the people before them to receive the sacrament. Olivia, having sat closer to the front than Laura finished receiving communion and their eyes met as she walked back towards her pew. She gave Laura a withering look and then quickly glanced around until her eyes stopped in the direction where Laura knew Carmilla, who was adamant she wanted nothing to do with the blood or body of Jesus Christ, was sitting. When she returned her eyes on Laura Olivia was sneering, but she didn’t say anything as she continued her walk back to her pew. Laura had no idea what any of it meant, and when she finally returned to her seat afterwards, she didn’t tell Carmilla what had happened. The service lasted only a few minutes more before they were dismissed with a Merry Christmas from the rector.

They were forced to wait a few minutes while Bill chatted with a few people he knew. Laura saw as Olivia and her family walked passed them that she whispered something into her brother’s ear. She saw him glance up and register her presence. He smiled and, despite his sister tugging on his arm, he made his way over to where they stood.

“Laura Hollis,” he greeted, smiling genuinely. “I don’t think I’ve seen you since we graduated.” He leaned in for a hug, which Laura eventually fell into. She had forgotten how much she liked Owen, before everything had gone down with Alex. “How are you? How’s school?” he asked.

“It’s good to see you, Owen,” she replied, and she knew she meant it. “School’s been great, actually. I don’t miss this place at all,” she laughed.

“I’d make some comment about breaking all those Silas girls’ hearts, but Olivia told me she ran into you and your girlfriend,” he smirked, whispering “girlfriend” so quietly that she was sure no one else heard him except for Carmilla, who sort of choked out a tiny laugh. The noise caught his attention and he looked over Laura’s shoulder and looked at Carmilla with a raised eyebrow. “The girlfriend, I presume?”

Laura shrugged her shoulders but didn’t refute him.

“Carmilla,” she heard her roommate say from behind her. She must have extended her hand because Owen shook it with a shit-eating grin on his face as he gave her his name.

“You seem to have made quite the impression on my sister,” he said cheekily to Carmilla.

“I’ve been told I can be quite charming,” she said. Laura smiled as she rolled her eyes, but Owen started laughing.

“I like her,” he said to Laura, leaning in close to her.

Laura looked at Carmilla, who raised both her eyebrows in some sort of confirmation. “I like her too,” she said, smiling at her roommate before she turned back to Owen. “But tell me how you’ve been.”

“Good,” he answered. He furrowed his eyebrows and took a deep breath before amending his statement. “Great, actually, since I came out to my family over Thanksgiving break.” He blushed when Laura caught his eye.

“Holy crap, Owen! Congratulations!” she said, giving him another hug.

“Thanks,” he said. “Thank _you_ ,” he added more pointedly. “I’m not sure I would have done it if it wasn’t for Olivia’s weird obsession over you and her overt homophobia. I just needed to shut her up once and for all.”

Laura heard Carmilla scoff next to her, but she didn’t say anything else.

“How’s it been? How’s your family been about it?” Laura asked.

“They’re mostly ignoring it at the moment, but it’s still pretty new to them. But _I’m_ doing great. There’s a great gay scene in Columbus, so I’m having fun exploring that.”

“That’s wonderful, Owen. I’m so happy for you.”

“Thanks,” he said, smiling. “I’m happy I ran into you. And it was nice meeting you, Carmilla. Take care of this one,” he said, pointing to Laura. “She’s really special.”

“I will,” Carmilla said. Laura didn’t dare look at her to gage how she meant it. The words alone gave her goosebumps.

“It was so great seeing you, too, Owen. Keep me up to date,” Laura said.

“Definitely. Anyway, Merry Christmas to you both,” he said, before leaving to join his family somewhere.

“There’s no way he and that vile girl shared a womb,” Carmilla said once he was no longer in sight.

“Weird, huh?” Laura answered as her father returned to them and asked if they were ready to leave.

 

They fell into bed not long after they got home. And, despite her nap earlier, Laura could barely keep her eyes open. She turned off the lights after Carmilla had settled in bed and set her alarm for earlier than she knew her body would want, but she had stuff she wanted to finish before Carmilla woke up. Pulling the covers over her, she rolled onto her right shoulder and said, “I’m so glad you came home with me, Carm. I don’t know how I would have survived today without you. Seriously, it has been so great having you here.”

“You don’t have to thank me, Cupcake.”

“Yeah, I do,” she insisted. “But, anyway, good night. Merry Christmas.”

Laura felt Carmilla shift towards her. She hoped the gasp she emitted after Carmilla threw her arm around her waist wasn’t embarrassingly loud, but she wasn’t sure. Anyway, it ceased to matter when she felt Carmilla shift a tiny bit again and press her lips against her cheek and say, “Merry Christmas, Laura,” before settling back down without disentangling from her.


	8. Christmas Morning

The second time Laura woke up on Christmas morning, she woke up with her head on Carmilla’s shoulder and her arm wrapped around her waist. Carmilla was already awake, reading something on her cell phone with her free hand, patiently waiting for Laura to stir.

“How long have you been awake?” Laura groaned, rolling onto her back to look at the clock on her nightstand. Her clock told her it was 8:13; the sunlight was only starting to peek through her bedroom window.

Carmilla set her phone on the other nightstand and turned her head to face Laura. She was smirking again. She was almost always smirking. “Merry Christmas to you too, Sunshine,” she laughed as Laura groaned again. “I woke up about twenty minutes ago.”

Laura made no movement to get up, and she couldn’t hear her father moving around downstairs, so she allowed herself a few moments to orient herself. She heard Carmilla snickering beside her.

“Are you laughing at me?” she asked, glaring at Carmilla.

“Sorry. I’m just surprised, I guess. I thought you’d be much more kid-who-can’t-wait-until-everyone-wakes-up-on-Christmas-morning than Christmas grump,” she said, laughing when Laura flipped her off.

“Normally I am,” she admitted, wiping the sleep from her eye. “But I got up at four this morning to do some last minute stuff, so I didn’t exactly sleep well. You can thank me later,” she added smugly.

Carmilla didn’t smile. She didn’t smirk or come back with some witty retort that would have made Laura roll her eyes and throw her pillow at her head. Instead, so took a big sigh and sat up to get out of bed.

“Are you okay?” Laura asked cautiously, as she sat up, because Carmilla’s behavior was weird. Well, weird in terms of how she’d been acting since they left campus; it wasn’t weird for Silas Carmilla.

Carmilla rummaged through her bag and grabbed a bra and a hoodie before she turned around to face Laura, her teeth tugging at her bottom lip.

“What’s wrong?” Laura asked quietly, masking the panic she felt inside.

“Nothing,” Carmilla said. “It’s nothing.”

“You seem upset. Did I say something to upset you?”

“No. Honestly, you didn’t.”

“Then what is it?” Laura was starting to freak out.

“It’s just… I guess…,” Carmilla stammered. Laura didn’t think she’d ever heard Carmilla stammer. “You’ve already done so much for me this week, and I don’t want you to think that you have to do anything special for me, especially if it means you’re losing sleep.”

Carmilla didn’t look at Laura when she finished speaking. She simply clutched her clothing to her chest, standing awkwardly in the middle of Laura’s bedroom.

Laura didn’t know how to respond. There was some truth to what Carmilla said. Laura was trying to give her a magical Christmas, but even if Carmilla wasn’t there she’d still be trying to duplicate the magic of the Christmases of her childhood for her and her dad.

Laura aimed for diffusing the tension. “It’s a little late for that, Carm,” she said, winking. “But it’s fine. I enjoy doing it, honestly. And your presence here makes it so much more worth doing,” she admitted, shocking even herself a bit. “I’m gonna head downstairs, so do your thing and then join us. Because now that I’m awake it’s time for presents!” she squealed like a five year old.

Carmilla shook her head, but she was smiling. “There’s the Laura Hollis I expected to find on Christmas morning.” She began walking towards the door and stopped before she left the room. “Save some coffee for me, yeah?” she asked, her eyebrow raised in a challenge. “I’ll see you downstairs.”

Laura smiled at Carmilla and then buried her head in her hands when she closed the door behind her. She remembered falling asleep with Carmilla’s arm wrapped around her and then thought about waking up burrowed into her side. She thought about how much she wanted Carmilla to love what she’d done downstairs and how much she hoped she liked her present. She loved that people kept mistaking them for a couple but then she ached in the knowledge that they were anything but, despite having spent nearly an hour cuddled with Carmilla on the couch. “You’re so screwed, Laura,” she mumbled quietly to herself before she stood up and got somewhat presentable to go downstairs.

 

 

“What the actual fuck, Laura?” she heard Carmilla yell from the living room.

Bill looked at his daughter, raising his eyebrows. “Not quite the traditional Merry Christmas greeting, but I suppose what she said works too,” he joked to his daughter, who looked a bit shell shocked.

She grabbed her mug and then walked in the direction of Carmilla’s voice. “What’s wrong?” she asked, looking at Carmilla’s back as her roommate stared at the fireplace. She took a sip of her extremely doctored coffee and waited for Carmilla to respond.

“There’s a stocking here for me—with my name on it—which wasn’t here last night,” she said without turning around.

“Yes,” Laura confirmed. “I’m aware.”

“When did you get me a personalized stocking?” Carmilla asked, finally turning around. “It hasn’t even been two weeks since you invited me here, and, I mean, I live with you and there’s no way you did this in the last two weeks.”

Laura smiled. It was hard to take Carmilla seriously when she looked so cute in her plaid green pajama bottoms and black hoodie and with her hair tied up into a messy bun at the top of her head. “There’s a lady who works with my dad who embosses things, so I ordered a stocking online and had it sent to my dad’s work, and then he asked her to put your name on it. He brought it home yesterday,” she explained.

“And the stuff that’s inside?” she asked, her eyebrows nearly disappearing into her head.

“They’re stocking stuffers, Carmilla. I wouldn’t get too excited. But my dad and I picked up a few things here and there. It’s no big deal.”

Carmilla took a breath and seemed to relax. Laura could have sworn she’d seen the tension disappear from her shoulder. “It’s a pretty big deal, actually,” she said, looking back at the stockings dangling from the mantle of the fireplace. “My stepmom thought that stockings were pointless junk collectors and didn’t see the point, which sucked since it was my favorite thing about Christmas morning. I haven’t had one in years.” And then when she turned around, Laura noticed her cheeks were pink and Laura and Laura couldn’t help but smile.

“Merry Christmas, Carmilla,” she said. “Now go grab a cup of coffee so we can open presents and dig into that stocking of yours.”

 

 

“A Swiffer duster, Creampuff? Really?”

Laura laughed at the sour expression on Carmilla’s face. “Figured you might find use for it in our dorm room once and a while,” she said, justifying her gift. She laughed again when Carmilla flipped her off.

“I can probably put it on display and watch how it ironically gathers dust,” she said, obviously proud of herself. “Then I can entertain myself by watching you slowly go crazy as you try to ignore it until you eventually cave and use the tool for its intended purpose.”

“You’re an ass,” Laura said, ignoring her father’s reprimand at her use of the swear word.

“Says the girl who bought me a duster for Christmas!”

“Oh, get over it. It’s not as if it’s the only gift I got you,” Laura said, reminding Carmilla of her yet-to-open gift.

“If it’s okay with you, ladies, I’d like to open the gift Carmilla got for me,” Bill said, holding up the flat, square, and tightly wrapped gift before him. “I wonder what it could be,” he said, chuckling at his lame joke.

“It’s so obviously that Shake Weight you said you wanted when we saw the commercial for it the other day,” Carmilla said, nervously wrapping the string on her hoodie around her finger.

What Bill opened was a vinyl of Nina Simone’s _I Put a Spell on You_. “I noticed you didn’t have this in your collection, and even though your taste, from what I can tell, is rather eclectic, no musical collection is complete without it. I was lucky that the store here had a copy since _your daughter_ didn’t give me much notice about Christmas,” Carmilla rambled uncharacteristically before Bill could react. Laura thought it was adorable. “It’s one of my favorites. Probably since one of the few memories I still have of my mother is her listening to this album,” she said, her voice trailing off at the end of the sentence. Carmilla kept her eyes focused on her lap. She didn’t relax until he stood up and demanded a hug and thanked her before apologizing that he couldn’t put it on right then and there because “Laura has a strict rule that we can only listen to Christmas music on Christmas Day.”  

And then Carmilla smiled, mumbling “Why doesn’t that surprise me?” under her breath.

Unbeknownst to Laura, her dad bought Carmilla a sleeping bag—a high-quality, compactable, sub-zero temperature-capable sleeping bag.

“It’s in case you want to go camping with us this summer,” he explained to her. “If you want to join us, that is. Either way, everyone should have one, and you don’t strike me as the type to get one for yourself.”

“You want me to go camping with you?” Carmilla asked, as if the invitation and not the bag was the real gift.

“Of course. Laura and I go at least once a year and, well, she doesn’t like to play chess with me.”

Laura rolled her eyes. “You two can just go without me,” she grumbled.

“But then who would bring the bear spray?” Carmilla asked, eliciting a laugh from Laura’s dad.

“Thanks, Bill. I’m going to hold you to this invite.” She said it like she meant it.

“Well, I suppose I should give you your real gift,” Laura announced. “Although it’s eerily similar to yours for her, dad.” She sent her father a look with her eyebrows twitched up—a mix between amused and annoyed—as she handed Carmilla a large bag with some Rockwellian Christmas scene and red tissue paper peeking out from the top. Laura’s palms went clammy as she waited for Carmilla to unwrap the gift.

But Carmilla stalled. She looked at the bag and then to Laura and then back to the bag. “You really didn’t need to get me anything else, you know,” she said, her eyes falling back to Laura’s. She was smiling. And then she bit her lop and shook her head the slightest bit. Laura didn’t say anything because she knew Carmilla was right. She didn’t have to get her the gift. The invite to her house wasn’t about personalized ornaments or stockings or presents under the tree, but watching Carmilla in this moment—unmasked, slightly nervous and a lot shy, sitting on the floor of her childhood living room, etching herself forever into Laura’s favorite Christmas memories—made it all worth it.

Carmilla took a deep breath as she regarded the bag before her and peeled away the layers of tissue paper until she reached it and grabbed the gift wrapped in more of the same red tissue paper, even though it was obvious by this point what it was.

As if on cue, Carmilla’s eyes flicked up to meet Laura’s, her patented smirk plastered across her face making Laura’s ears burn red. It wasn’t a scary smirk. The glint in Carmilla’s eyes made it more conspiratorial than anything else. And then she looked back to the still-wrapped gift on her lap and ripped the paper off.

Laura watched as Carmilla unfolded the predominantly blue fabric and touched it with a gentleness reserved for priceless artifacts.

“I made it last year over Christmas break,” Laura explained, unprompted. “My grandmother helped me a bit, but I did most of it on my own.”

“Laura, I—“

“I know it’s not your thing,” Laura continued, not yet ready to hear Carmilla speak, “but you’re always taking the one my grandmother knit for me, so I figured you should have your own—so you don’t have to steal mine,” she added with a smirk.

Laura watched as Carmilla looked back down at the knit blanket on her lap. It was mostly blue, with patches of gray and white and an outlining layer of black. Carmilla dragged her fingers across the white lettering at the stop, which was slightly crooked in the places her grandmother wasn’t around to help her with.

“People are going to think I’m a giant _Doctor Who_ nerd,” Carmilla said, uninterrupted this time. “And I’ve never watched the show.” Carmilla smiled.

“Don’t tempt me, Carmilla. You’re still here for another week,” Laura reminded her. It wasn’t what she wanted to say. She wanted Carmilla to really understand what she was giving her. It wasn’t just a _Doctor Who_ blanket; it was a part of Laura. And it wasn’t a gift that’s given because the giver knows that the receiver loves X or collects Y or really could use Z. No, this was one of those rare gifts that is given because _I wanted you to have something I value more than most anything else in the world._ And Laura did. This TARDIS blanket symbolized so much for Laura. It was the show that almost single-handedly saved her life during middle school and high school, providing the perfect fantasy and escape from her reality—the TARDIS serving as the vehicle that would transport her to those alternate realities. It was something she’d labored over in making, stitch-by-stitch, giving her something to do to pass the time over her first Christmas break from Silas, during which she rarely left the house in a deliberate strategy to hide away from running into anyone from her high school. It was literally her security blanket, which she was willingly giving away to Carmilla. She didn’t share all of this with Carmilla, of course. How could she tell her all of that and expect her to commit to the responsibility left void by not possessing the blanket anymore?

But then her dad got up, excusing himself to “top up my coffee” and, as soon as he left the room, Carmilla left her place in front of the fireplace and joined Laura on the couch. She had the blanket wrapped around her shoulders. “

“Cupcake,” Carmilla said, taking Laura’s left hand into hers and, with her other hand, she tucked a strand of her hair behind Laura’s ear. Her hand lingered on her neck for the briefest moment, burning into Laura’s skin, and then Carmilla leaned forward and placed a soft kiss near Laura’s left ear. “Thank you,” she whispered into her ear before she moved back and sat at a more comfortable distance, squeezing Laura’s hand before finally letting it go.

“Way to set my gift up for failure,” Carmilla joked as Bill came back from the kitchen and settled back into his chair next to the tree.

Laura heard her father laugh, but her eyes were transfixed on Carmilla as she tried to understand how it was that her cheek could be burning while the rest of her body was freezing cold.

“It’s your turn, Creampuff,” Carmilla said, getting up and walking towards the tree and retuning with a gift in her hand. “Temper your expectations,” she said, biting her bottom lip when she handed Laura the gift.

Laura usually ripped through wrapping paper, never quite grasping the joy in delaying gratification, but she didn’t want to rush through this. Not when she could see the effort Carmilla took in wrapping her gift. Underneath the wrapping paper was a second-hand, hardback copy of _Anne of Green Gables_. Laura held the book in both of her hands almost reverently. She’d read the _Anne_ books as a kid but hadn’t thought of the story for years. So she looked up to Carmilla to help explain the present. And when she saw Carmilla, she noticed her teeth were still holding that bottom lip of hers in place and she was shaking her knee as if she was trying to generate enough power to light up the whole house. Laura stilled her leg with a small touch to Carmilla’s knee.

” _Anne of Green Gables_?” Laura asked with a smirk. “Have you even read _Anne of Green Gables_?” She had to ask because it was definitely not a story she imagined Carmilla gravitating towards.

Carmilla smiled as rolled her eyes and she flipped Laura off. “Open the book, smart ass.”

Laura rolled her eyes, but otherwise did as she was told. On the inside cover of the book she saw written in a child's scrawl: "Carmilla Karnstein, age 9." Her head shot up, searching for Carmilla's eyes when she asked, "This was your book?"  
  
Carmilla laughed and then nodded. "It's actually my second copy since I lost my first one and was so upset my dad went out and bought this one for me."  
  
Laura looked back at the book, her eyebrows furrowed, trying to picture the Carmilla she knew not only reading _Anne of Green Gables_ but liking it so much her dad had to buy her a second copy to pacify her.  
  
"No offense, Carm," Laura began, "but I'm having a hard time believing you'd be into this book, this heroine."  
  
Carmilla simply shrugged her shoulders.  
  
"She's idealistic and precocious and righteous and imaginative and talkative and—"  
  
"And a lot like you, if you think about it," she said, not meeting Laura's eyes.  
  
"What?" Laura asked so quietly that she wasn't sure if Carmilla even heard her. Bill got back up and mumbled something about wanting to call Vivian, leaving the two girls alone again.  
  
Carmilla shook her head. "I can't explain it either, but I was just drawn to her. She was an orphan, and I was this sort of half orphan and she was so positive about it but she wasn't a pushover. I don't know. I guess she just gave me hope or some sense of possibility. And you remind me of her so much. It's alarmingly uncanny."  
  
Laura didn't know what to say to all that, so she didn't. She just kept opening and closing the book.  
  
"Well," she heard Carmilla say, stopping the silence. "You don't have the red hair, but there are already enough redheads in your squad. I don't think I could handle another."  
  
Laura laughed. Even she had to admit she had a statically improbable assortment of redheaded friends.  
  
"So tell me," she said cocking her left eyebrow up and smirking, "were you Team Diana or Team Gilbert?"  
  
Carmilla scoffed. "That's not even... You shouldn't have to ask the question," she answered, scrunching up her face. "The only correct answer to this question is Gilbert. Always Gilbert."  
  
Laura laughed but didn't offer her opinion on the matter.  
  
"No," Carmilla said. "Please don't tell me you favor Diana boring-as-fuck Berry." That horrified, scrunched up face reappeared and it made Laura laugh again.  
  
"No, of course not," Laura finally answered. "It never occurred to me when I was a kid, to be honest. I only read that people shipped those two recently."  
  
"Good," Carmilla said, taking a deep breath and settling into the sofa more.  
  
"It was my mom's favorite story, you know?" Laura asked after letting a few seconds pass in comfortable silence.  
  
"Hmm?" Carmilla hummed beside her as she stared at something or maybe nothing.  
  
" _Anne of Green Gables_. She dragged my dad to PEI for their honeymoon so that she could see it for herself."  
  
Carmilla turned her head to face Laura. She suddenly looked shy. "Really?" she asked.  
  
"Really. She even made Anne my middle name as a tribute. Anne with an 'e,'" she said with a smirk.  
  
Carmilla's expression sunk at the revelation and she dropped her head and fiddled with the blanket draped around her. "I'm sorry," she started. "You've probably read that book a million times. I'll get you something else." She tried reaching for the book.  
  
Laura, working solely on instinct, quickly moved the book out of Carmilla's reach. "What are you doing?" she asked, confused.  
  
"Trying to take the book back, so may I have it please?"  
  
"What? No," Laura said. "You can't take back your gift immediately after giving it to me."  
  
"But—"  
  
"No," Laura said again and Carmilla dropped her hand. "This is... Carm, this gift is so incredibly thoughtful. You gave me one of your favorite childhood books. Literally. It has your name written it in. You gave it to me because you love the main character, who you said reminded you of me," she said. "That right there makes it the best gift anyone has ever given me." Laura chanced a glance at Carmilla and, even though Carmilla kept her head down, Laura could see the twitch of a smile forming on her lips. "The fact that it happens to be my mother's favorite childhood book, too, just makes it more, I don't know, perfect? And, let me tell you, she would have considered it her greatest achievement as a parent to have raised a daughter who reminded someone of Anne Shirley. So I'm sorry, Carmilla, there's no way you're ever getting this book back."  
  
Carmilla didn't respond right away. She kept her head down for a while, and it started to freak Laura out until she saw Carmilla nod once, twice and then heard her mutter "OK" quietly under her breath.  
  
"OK?" Laura asked, her eyebrow raised.  
  
Carmilla finally looked at Laura. "OK," she said smiling.  
  
Laura couldn't contain the smile that broke across her face. She nodded. "OK."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this chapter a few months ago, well before Autostraddle's article, "Anne of Green Gables is Obviously Bisexual." But the article is worth a read, especially if you're looking for more context on Anne of Green Gables. The comment section alone is quite hilarious.


	9. Exposition, Part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, let's pretend we don't know Laura's dad's name is Sherman and keep pretending it's Bill for the sake of my story. I'm super pumped to get to see Laura's dad on the show though.

“Laura Anne Hollis, I thought you didn’t keep things from us,” Laura’s Aunt Jess hissed at her when Laura got up for more pie. Her two aunts, Jess and Rebecca, had basically pinned her against the counter by her Aunt Rebecca’s kitchen sink. They weren’t sisters, Jess and Rebecca. Jess was her mom’s younger sister and Rebecca was her dad’s younger sister, but, as a result of Laura’s mom’s death, the Hollis and Hendrich families had become quite close. In an effort to support Bill and Laura through their grief, they’d started spending Thanksgivings and Christmases together, so Laura wouldn’t have to choose between the families. And now her aunts were best friends, which was usually pretty awesome, but at this moment, Laura would have preferred them not gaining up on her, especially since she didn’t know what she had supposedly kept from them.

“What are you even talking about?” Laura asked, because she genuinely had no idea what was going on, and she wanted another piece of her grandmother Hendrich’s pumpkin pie before it was gone.

They’d arrived to her Aunt Rebecca’s house a few towns over around three. They’d spent most of the morning, after opening presents, eating brunch with Vivian and her son, Wilson, some big-time pitching prospect on scholarship at the University of Virginia. He was cute and goofy and very respectful of her father, and not at all how she expected a child of Vivian’s would be. Laura liked him immediately. And in liking him, Laura found she liked her father’s girlfriend more. And when they left around two, after playing some more board games, the Hollis’, with Carmilla in tow, had relocated to her aunt’s house to spend the rest of the holiday with the family.

Up until this point, Laura thought it had gone really well. Her family was making an effort to include Carmilla and they weren’t divulging embarrassing stories about Laura or asking Carmilla uncomfortable questions. Laura was a little upset she didn’t get to sit next to her roommate at dinner, since Laura’s cousins had taken to spots on either side of her, but at least Carmilla was next to her father and she did manage to sit directly across from her.

Most of the family was still sitting at the table working on dessert. Carmilla was entrenched in a conversation her uncle started about the New England Patriots, which Carmilla had a surprisingly amount of opinions on. It sounded heated, but her dad was laughing, so Laura decided she was fine and had chosen that moment to get more pie. Given her current situation, she wished she’d had stayed and at least pretended she knew what Deflate Gate referred to.

“Don’t go acting all coy, missy. We have eyes,” her Aunt Rebecca chimed in. 

Laura tried sidestepping her aunts, but they shifted with her and kept her with her back pressed up against the counter. “You two are insane,” she said. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I just came in here to get pie. So if you’ll excuse—“

“Carmilla, Laura,” her Aunt Jess supplied for her, rolling her eyes like a petulant teenager, or a lot like Carmilla, actually.

“What about her?”

 Her aunts looked at each other. Aunt Jess rolled her eyes again and her Aunt Rebecca shook her head.

“What was that line you fed us about her being your roommate?” Aunt Jess asked.

“She _is_ my roommate.”

Her Aunt Rebecca spoke up this time. “Yes, we know she’s your roommate, but she’s not _just_ your roommate, that much is obvious.”

Laura hated that her body betrayed her in that moment because she was blushing. She could feel the spike in heat that just rushed to her face. “I hate to break it to you,” she said as nonchalantly as she could, “but she’s just my roommate.”

“You have never, in your entire life, been a good liar, Laura.” It was her Aunt Jess this time. “And we believe that she’s _technically_ only your roommate, but, like I told you before, we have eyes. And not only did we just watch you go beet red when we insinuated that something was going on between you two, but we’ve been watching you guys for the last couple of hours and neither one of you is being subtle.”

“Not even a little bit,” her Aunt Rebecca added.

“What are you even talking about?” Laura asked. “I’ve barely interacted with her at all since we got here.”

“Laura, just stop talking. You’re not doing yourself any favors,” her Aunt Rebecca said, smiling at her niece. “You haven’t been able to keep your eyes off of her the entire night.”

“And we don’t blame you. That girl is unfairly hot,” her Aunt Jess added.

“Ugh. I know. Younger me would have hated her,” Rebecca said to Jess. “But I can’t help but love her because every time she catches your eye—“

“Which is a lot since you can’t stop staring at her,” Jess interrupted.

“Every time she catches your eye,” Rebecca said, giving Jess a look, “she gets this shy smile on her face, and it’s really sweet.”

“It’s actually pretty gross, and I kind of want to vomit every time it happens, except for the fact that I haven’t seen you like this in a long time,” Jess said.

“Right,” Rebecca said. “So enough with the ‘She’s just my roommate’ line you’re determined to stick to. What’s actually going on, kiddo?”

Her aunts gave her a little space when Laura’s shoulders slumped and she let out an audible sigh. “I don’t know,” Laura answered honestly. “I guess I’m still trying to figure it out.”

Jess squealed like a little girl and then pulled Laura into a hug. She turned to Rebecca and asked: “That’s an admission of interest, right? Laura just admitted that there is something there, right?”

Laura pushed her aunt off of her and glared at them. “I hate you both so much right now.” They both laughed at that, and when she made a move to get around them again, they didn’t try to stop her. And she finally grabbed that piece of pie she came into the kitchen to get in the first place.

Before Laura could get away from them, her Aunt Rebecca called out to her and asked, “So what do you think of Vivian?” She was smirking while Laura glared at her again.

“I’m leaving now,” Laura said, as she made a quick exit from the kitchen, while her aunts laughed at her reaction.

 

 

Carmilla wasn’t at the table when Laura returned. But before she could panic at the thought that Carmilla may have overhead her conversation with her aunts, Carmilla returned to the room and took the seat next to Laura’s, which was now empty.

“Where’d you go?” Laura asked, taking a bite of the coveted pie.

“Your Uncle Dave wanted to show me this picture of him with Tom Brady. I nearly vomited my dinner at the sight.”

Laura laughed when Carmilla rolled her eyes. “I’m just going to pretend like I know what any of that means,” she said.

“I envy your blissful ignorance on this topic, Cupcake.”

Laura laughed again and watched Carmilla fiddle with a napkin on the table while she continued devouring her grandmother’s pie.

“How are you doing?” Laura asked. “The Hollis-Hendrich festivities not too overwhelming or anything?”

“No. It’s been okay. Your family is really great. Well, maybe except for Dave and his gross Patriots obsession, but since he’s only family by marriage, I’ll excuse it.”

Laura laughed again. “I’ll pass that message on to my Aunt Rebecca. She’ll love it.”

Laura saw Carmilla eying the forkful of pie she was holding, so she pushed her fork towards Carmilla’s mouth and watched as Carmilla took the offered bit.

“That pie is so fucking good.”

“Why do you think I went back for a second piece? There’s more in the kitchen, you know. And I suggest you get it now because there won’t be any left soon, and that was the only bite you’re getting from my piece here.”

Carmilla rolled her eyes but got up and walked back towards the kitchen.

She returned about a minute later with a piece of pie in hand and sat in the seat she’d just vacated, right next to Laura. “Your Aunt Jess told me to tell you that she thinks we should go watch _The Little Mermaid_ ,” she said, taking a bite of the pie.

“ _The Little Mermaid_?” Laura asked, furrowing her eyebrows. “Did she tell you why?”

“The only other thing she said is that you always loved this one character—I can’t remember the name she said—“

“Sebastian?” Laura supplied.

“Yeah, that was it. Sebastian. She said that you’re old enough now to take his advice. Something like that,” Carmilla said, shrugging her shoulders and eating another mouthful of pie.

While Carmilla’s head was down, looking at something on her phone, Laura turned hers to the entrance of the kitchen where she wasn’t surprised to see her aunts peeking in on the dining room. They were winking and giving her thumbs up and looked really proud of themselves. Laura made sure Carmilla was still distracted before she flipped them off and they scurried away laughing.

Laura shook her head, but she was thankful Carmilla didn’t catch anything that went on. She didn’t even know who Sebastian was. 

“Wait,” Laura said, running Carmilla’s words back in her head. Carmilla looked up and found Laura’s eyes. “Are you telling me you’ve never seen _The Little Mermaid_? 

Carmilla shrugged and shook her head.

One day Laura hoped to change that. But today was definitely not going to be that day.

 

 

“I don’t think I’ve played as many board games or party games in my entire as I have played this week,” Carmilla said, plopping herself onto Laura’s bed. They’d just returned from her aunt’s house with only a few minutes of Christmas remaining.

Laura threw Carmilla’s pajama pants and shirt on top of her body from where she’d left them on the floor earlier that day.

“Sorry. I don’t think I warned you about that when I pitched this trip.” Laura felt a bit guilty. Her family did play a lot of board games, and she’d learned early on at Silas, when she suggested she and her friends play _Carcassonne_ instead of going to a frat party, that not everyone thought board games were fun. And Carmilla definitely didn’t seem like the board-game playing kind of person. And even though Laura thought Carmilla was having a good time playing _Telestrations_ (it was a gift her father had given to his sister’s family earlier that night), Carmilla’s comment had her questioning whether or not Carmilla was actually having a good time or if she was just sort of trapped into playing all these games because, as the guest, it would be rude to refuse. “We don’t have to play anymore the rest of the week,” Laura said, changing into her pajamas in her room—all sense of modesty from earlier in the week gone because they were roommates, after all, and had changed in front of each other many times already.

Carmilla was looking at her. She wasn’t checking her out. She was looking into her eyes, squinting, as if she was trying to gage Laura’s reaction. “I wasn’t complaining,” she said after a few long seconds. “It’s been fun. Different, but fun. It’s just my family never did anything like that.”

Carmilla sat up and took off her shirt, replacing it with the tank top she’d slept in all week and then she kicked off her jeans and slipped into Laura’s pajama pants. Laura watched the whole process and didn’t even turn away when Carmilla caught her. Instead, she’d winked and smiled and when Carmilla mumbled “Pervert” under her breath, she laughed.

“Does that mean you’re up for hosting a couple of game nights in our room when we get back?” Laura asked, ignoring the little exchanged they’d just shared.

“With your ginger friends?” she asked, arching her eyebrow and sliding under the duvet. “That’s not likely.”

“Why don’t you like them?” Laura asked. She didn’t think this conversation would take them to this topic, but she decided to go with it since it did. She’d been dying to get Carmilla’s side of the story since the night she last saw her friends at Silas Marner.

“I don’t know. Why does anyone like or not like anyone?”

Laura rolled her eyes as she turned on the lamp next to her bed. “This isn’t a philosophy question. I just wanted to know why you guys don’t get along. I mean, it’s not like you’re indifferent to them. You seem to really not like them.”

“And you’re under the impression they like me?”

“I know they don’t,” Laura answered honestly. She walked over to the main light switch and turned the light off before getting into bed, lying on her side to face Carmilla, who had instinctively rolled over on her side when Laura got into bed. “They freaked out when I told them I’d invited you here.”

Carmilla rolled her eyes. “Of course they did.” She turned again so that she was lying on her back, staring at the ceiling. “And did you ask them why?”

“You know I did,” she said. And then she laughed when Carmilla turned her head and smiled when her eyes met Laura’s.

“Of course you did,” she said, staring again at the ceiling. “And what’d they tell you?”

Laura took some time to answer. She didn’t want to push Carmilla away, and she didn’t know if bringing this stuff up would set Carmilla off. “They mentioned an incident involving a girl named Ell.” Carmilla closed her eyes when Laura mentioned Ell’s name, and Laura could see that she clenched her jaw. “They accused you of harassing her after she told you to back off and that she had to leave the university because she was afraid you’d hurt her,” she summarized. When Carmilla didn’t respond, Laura went a little further. “They seemed to think you were in love with her but when she didn’t return that love you went all crazy and stalkerish on her.”

Carmilla shook her head and released a frustrated breath. “That’s rich,” she said quietly. “So why didn’t you rescind your invitation?” she asked.

“Because I figured there was more to the story than what they told me. Because nothing they described sounded at all like the way I know you to behave. I’ll admit that before this trip, I didn’t always find you easy to like, but I don’t think you’d ever be a threat to anyone. Well, not anyone you cared about, anyway. Somehow I don’t think your goodwill would extend to someone like Olivia.” Carmilla finally turned her head to face Laura’s and Laura could see that moisture had accumulated around Carmilla’s eyes, but she was smiling, at least.

“I plead the fifth,” Carmilla said, and then she resumed her starting at the ceiling once more.

“Anyway, I told Danny she was full of shit,” Laura continued. “I said I wouldn’t judge the situation until I heard your side of the story—if I heard your side of the story,” she corrected.

“Well, they’re not entirely wrong. The context is missing, so I could understand how they arrived at their conclusions, but there is some truth to what they told you.”

 

Laura didn’t say anything. Instead, she brought her hand to Carmilla’s face and pushed some of Carmilla’s hair behind her ear for no other reason than she wanted to touch her—wanted to convey her support without words. And then she rolled onto her back, keeping her head trained on Carmilla’s, and grabbed her hand under the covers, giving it a tiny squeeze before reluctantly letting go.

“There was a girl named Ell who I was involved with,” Carmilla began. “We met at one of those orientation weekends during senior year and started texting the whole summer before school started. We were best friends until, not unlike your experience with Alex, we were more than that. I was falling in love with her. And, by all accounts she was feeling similar. Looking back now, it was all pretty stupid and fast, but it didn’t feel that way at the time because it was great—for a while. It was great until her family came to take her home for Thanksgiving break. And then everything changed somehow.  They had come a couple of days early to visit her at school before the holiday. I met them on the Tuesday night. We all went out to dinner their last night in town. Ell introduced me as her best friend, which didn’t really bother me since I knew she wasn’t out and that her family was deeply religious and conservative, but we weren’t acting like a couple—at least I didn’t think we were. And I thought it went well when I said goodbye that night.

“I didn’t hear from Ell the next morning, and I didn’t expect to since I knew she’d gone home and wanted to spend time with her family and high school friends, so I gave her space over the weekend. I sent her a few texts, and she responded to them. They were short and to the point, but I didn’t think too much about it. I knew she was distracted at home. But on Sunday, at the end of the weekend I sent her a text late in the afternoon asking how her trip home was. A few hours passed and she hadn’t texted me back, which was weird since she usually texted me back within minutes. She was good at that, unlike me. She sometimes got mad at me for not responding to her texts sooner, so I knew prompt replies were important for her. So I texted her again, asking if she wanted to get dinner. Nothing.

“A couple of more hours passed and by eight o’clock I was starving, so I left campus and went to grab a sandwich from Le Fanu—that place where I got you that turkey pesto sandwich a few weeks ago. Anyway, when I walked in to pick up my order, I saw her—Ell—sitting at a corner table with this guy from her psych class who she’d pointed out to me before because he would not stop hitting on her and asking her out. They were really close, sitting side-by-side, and his arm was draped around her shoulders.  It took me by surprise. And, I mean, she didn’t look like she was in distress, but she hadn’t responded to my texts and she’d usually avoided this guy if we saw him on campus, so I went over to their table—figured I’d give her an out if she needed to get away from him. And then, at least, I’d get to talk to her for a bit and catch up. Regroup, you know?

“I don’t think Ell saw me walk in or knew I was there until I called her by name as I stood right next to their table. She’d been smiling before I got there. It wasn’t a genuine smile, but she was smiling until she saw me, and then her face turned white. The change in her demeanor triggered the guy beside her that something was wrong, and so he asked her if she was okay, did she want him to get rid of ‘this girl.’ I honestly hadn’t said more than, ‘Ell, hey,’ so I can’t be accused of harassing her or anything. She swallowed and then she turned to face me. She just said, ‘Oh hey. You’re in my art history class, right?’ And I laughed. It was utterly ridiculous, so I laughed. But she just looked at me and then she looked to him and she shrugged her shoulders, but she didn’t laugh. She just kept regarding me as this person she recognized but didn’t intimately know and I couldn’t figure it out. My ears felt like they were on fire and, without thinking, I blurted, ‘Ell, what’s going on?’ And she shook her head as the guy tensed beside her, but when she looked back up to me she said, ‘Your name’s Carmen, right? Thanks for coming to say hi, but I’m in the middle of something here, so I’ll see you in class, okay?’”

Laura couldn’t control the gasp that escaped from her mouth. “She called you by the wrong name on purpose?”

“For a moment I thought I was going crazy. But the way she reacted when she saw me, before she had a chance to put her guard up, confirmed she knew exactly what she was doing. I just didn’t know why.”

“What’d you do?”

“I shook my head and laughed. And then I left. What else could I do? I mean, I texted her when I got home to see what the fuck that whole scene was about because she had to have a good reason for it, right? But she ignored that text, too. I didn’t text her again until the next day, a simple ‘call me,’ but I didn’t go nuts with the texts. I knew I’d see her in class the next day. But she didn’t go to class that Tuesday, so I texted her again. And, well, you know how the rest of the story plays out.”

“I do?” Laura rolled over to her side, facing Carmilla, and Carmilla turned her head again so that she was facing Laura.

“Well, yeah. It happened to you.”

“No explanation,” Laura said quietly, nodding, as Carmilla looked back up at the ceiling.

“Nope. I went to her dorm after class that Tuesday, but her roommate fed me some bullshit story about her whereabouts and then shut the door in my face. It wasn’t until late Thursday night, after a few more attempts to get her to talk to me, that I got a text from her.”

Carmilla’s body shifted as she grabbed her phone from the nightstand. The bright light from the screen jarred Laura’s eyes, but she didn’t say anything as she watched Carmilla fiddle with her phone. When she found what she was looking for, she handed the phone to Laura, who had to squint as she tried to see what Carmilla was showing her. When her eyes finally adjusted, she saw a message from an Ell, sent on December 4th, the previous year. It said: “Delete my number and don’t try to contact me again.”

“What’d you do?” Laura asked, handing the phone back to Carmilla.

Carmilla placed the phone back on the nightstand and then rolled over to face Laura. “I got angry. Then I got drunk. And then I stupidly ended up at her dorm room door just after two a.m., where her rightfully pissed off roommate told me to ‘leave now and stay the fuck away, or I’m calling campus police. And if you ever come here again I will have you arrested for harassment’ before she slammed the door on my face again. It wasn’t my best moment,” Carmilla admitted, grimacing a bit.

Laura smiled. “I think you can be forgiven for a moment of stupidity driven by pain,” she said, and Carmilla smiled. “But it didn’t end there, right?” Laura asked.

Carmilla furrowed her eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

“Perry mentioned an incident at a Zeta party.”

“Oh. That. Yeah, so a couple of days later I ended up at some party. I didn’t even realize it was a Zeta party until I got there, but I didn’t care. I was looking to self-destruct and maybe pull someone, but all those plans went out the window the second I saw Ell at the party. She was making out with that guy from the café, and I broke a bit more.

“I didn’t go up to her in that moment. I wanted to get her alone, so I could talk to her and figure out what happened. I kept my eyes on her the rest of the night, waiting for my chance. I don’t know how much time had passed, but I’d had enough beer at that point that I knew I was intoxicated, and then I saw her leave through the front door and I knew it was my chance. She was sitting on the porch talking on her phone. She must have gone outside to hear whoever it was. She finished the call and turned to go back into the house, but I was there blocking her way. ‘Carmilla,’ she said, She was weirdly calm and it pissed me off. Let me just say that I’m not proud of anything that happened that night, and being drunk is no excuse, but I was drunk and heartbroken and I’d been dumped without any explanation, so I wasn’t thinking clearly. I scoffed at her. I said, ‘Oh, so you do remember my name?’ ‘Let’s not do this,’ she said. ‘Let’s just cut our losses and move on with our lives.’ That sobered me up. ‘Our losses?’ I asked, on the verge of tears. ‘Why can’t you tell me what happened? Why are you doing this?’ She tried to push past me again. ‘I’m not doing this with you, Carmilla. Leave me alone.’ I grabbed her wrist to stop her. It was just instinct really. But some guy on the lawn heard Ell yell to let go of her and he saw my grip on her arm and he came to break it up. I dropped her arm when he came up to us and, before he could ask her if she needed his help, she walked passed me back into the house, leaving me standing there with the frat boy. Once she was inside, he told me to ‘leave Justin’s girlfriend alone and leave this party right now.’ I didn’t really have another option, so I left. I haven’t spoken to her since.

“The rumors must have started that night because the following day, people were acting really strange. I heard a few slurs thrown my way, too: dyke, cunt, pervert. Your friend, the ginger Grawp, along with a few of her Summer Society posse, confronted me outside of my art history class and threatened to ‘end’ me if I went near Ell again. And then, when Ell transferred out at the semester, the Zetas began their attacks. I guess she’d left Justin behind in the bargain, too.”

Laura waited for a bit to see if Carmilla would say anything else, but she didn’t. ”Jesus,” Laura said into the silence. “How did you get through it all?”

“Same way you did. I mean, not with _Doctor Who_ ,” she said, smirking, “but I found other things to distract me.”

“Your study buddies.” Laura couldn’t help the tone of disdain that slipped out when she thought of the parade of girls through their room at the beginning of the year.

“I didn’t say they were healthy distractions, but they helped me forget. Better that than drugs. And I did break myself of that habit, too.”

Laura eyed her suspiciously. “When?”

“Just before Halloween. It wasn’t satisfying anymore.”

“Sex with beautiful women isn’t satisfying?” Laura had no idea why she was asking Carmilla questions about this because she really didn’t want to know the answers.

But Carmilla smiled. It was warm and soft and Laura could see she was getting sleepy. “Sex without the emotional attachment gets old pretty quickly. Trust me.”

Laura didn’t have anything to say in response to that. But she watched as Carmilla shut her eyes. “Carm?” she asked after a while.

“Hmm?”

“I’m sorry you had to go through that all by yourself. And I’m sorry my friends have been jerks to you. And I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like I was just seeing you through a lens they created about you. And I know we didn’t get off to the best start as roommates, but nothing about that had anything to do with this. I didn’t even know about it until last week. But, Carm?”

“Yeah, Cupcake?” she said, opening up her eyes, looking intensely into Laura’s eyes.

“I’m so glad you’re a part of my life. 

Laura smiled, and Carmilla mirrored it, bringing her hand up to caress Laura’s cheek. “I’m glad too.” She dropped her hand and closed her eyes again. “Good night, Laura.”

“Night, Carm,” she said, clutching her cheek where Carmilla had just touched it and smiling as she closed her eyes to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only two more chapters to go on this one. I will be posting 10 on Saturday, but I'll be at Fan Expo tomorrow and all day Saturday, so I'm not really sure when it will go up, but I will post it on Saturday. I promise. Last chapter will be posted on Monday. Thanks for reading.


	10. Kirsch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you guys see the trailer for season 3?! OMG! I'm dead. I'm posting this from the afterlife. RIP me! 
> 
> Apologies if this has more errors than usual. I wanted to post this before I had to leave today, so I didn't get a chance to read it through.

With Christmas done and another week left of their holiday, Laura was in a panic about what she could do with Carmilla. She hadn’t quite thought this whole plan through. Cabin fever was bound to set in, if it hadn’t already, since they’d spent most of the week leading up until Christmas at her house. Surely they couldn’t spend another week holed up inside. The problem was there wasn’t much to do in north-eastern Ohio in the winter. In the summer, she could drag Carmilla on long walks, go to an Indians game, spend the day at Cedar Point, but in winter everything sort of came to a standstill. Carmilla hadn’t complained. She’d stressed on Christmas night that she didn’t mind playing games, and Laura knew, having lived with her for a few months, that as long as Carmilla had a book, she was content to just sit and read, but none of that helped the fact that Laura felt she was boring her guest. And Wooster didn’t provide many options either, especially since school—its predominant population driver—was not in session.

If she cared enough to examine it—and she absolutely did not want to do that—Laura would have admitted that her nervousness stemmed from whatever has happening between her and Carmilla. She wasn’t even sure anything was going on there, but she knew she wanted there to be. She had no idea what Carmilla was feeling about all of this—whether she was feeling anything at all. It was a mess. She was a mess. And she wanted to throttle her aunts for encouraging her to think Carmilla might feel something for her. She still had another four and a half months of sharing a room with her, so she really didn’t want to mess anything up, no matter what happened—or didn’t happen.

Vivian’s son, Wilson, or Kirsch, as he preferred to be called (“It’s how I keep a little bit of my dad with me at all times,” he explained when Carmilla had asked. Like Laura, he’d lost a parent at a young age, too, so the three of them all had that weirdly in common), showed up at their house two days after Christmas. Laura welcomed his energy and the fact that he provided a distraction. But he was itching to do something—anything—he’d said a few times. It was the first time he’d been to Wooster, not counting the few days he’d been here to help his mom move in during the summer, and he was tired of sitting in her condo playing video games all day. And “you two are the only people I know around here who are my age,” he explained. So he came over and dragged them to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame because “it’s sort of obligatory. What else does the greater Cleveland area have going for it?” he asked. Carmilla laughed at the look on Laura’s face when he insulted the place she called home, while Kirsch took his hand and messed up Laura’s hair and told her he was only joking. But they went to the Hall of Fame anyway, something Laura, surprisingly, had never done. And neither Kirsch nor Carmilla gave her too hard a time for not knowing who half the bands were. “I’m slowly working to educate her,” Carmilla explained to Kirsch when he almost fainted after Laura asked who The Stooges were.

Laura liked Kirsch, and Carmilla seemed to like him, too, which surprised Laura a little because Carmilla rarely liked anyone—at least not right away. But he was a hard guy not to like. He didn’t take himself too seriously and he didn’t try to hit on them, for which she was thankful, and he talked about his girlfriend like she was the greatest thing. He even dragged them out to dinner one night—his treat—because they saved him from doing nothing all week. “You two are really great bros,” he said. “I’m glad I got to meet you this break.” Carmilla rolled her eyes, but her smile revealed that she appreciated the compliment.

“You may find you two have to spend a lot more time together in the future,” Carmilla said, taking sip of water from the table. Laura narrowed her eyes at Carmilla, suspicious of where she was going with this line of thinking.

“What do you mean?” Kirsch asked. “I’m leaving on Friday morning.”

“Yeah, but if all goes well with your parents, you two could actually be ‘bros’,” she said, emphasizing the word with air quotes.

Kirsch and Laura shared surreally similar reactions as their eyes widened and they looked slowly at each other. Carmilla didn’t even try to hide her amusement, nearly spitting out the water she’d just put in her mouth.

Kirsch composed himself quicker than Laura. “Bill seems like a great guy, and I haven’t seen my mom this happy in a long time. So as long as my mom’s happy, I’m happy,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “But my friends are going to be so bummed that my hot new step-sister is gay.”

Carmilla laughed out loud, while Laura buried her face in her hands and grumbled, “Oh my God.” Kirsch beamed.

“I suppose I should start teaching her about baseball, then, right?” Carmilla asked Kirsch. “When you get drafted she’s going to have to be invested in her brother’s career.”

Carmilla and Kirsch were enjoying themselves way too much at Laura’s expense.

“Wait,” Kirsch said. “You don’t know baseball?” He was aghast. “Dude, that’s unacceptable. It’s America’s pastime.”

Laura couldn’t really defend herself, so she didn’t try.

“That’s it,” Kirsch said. “Tomorrow I’m coming over and you’re learning baseball.”

“Kirsch, it’s the middle of the winter,” Laura reminded him.

“So?”

“So it’s not quite baseball-appropriate weather.”

“Tomorrow,” he repeated, undeterred.

Kirsch placed a sum of money into the black folder where the waitress handed him the bill and then got up to leave. Laura glanced at Carmilla, who was trying to hide her amusement with her water glass. Laura rolled her eyes. 

“Proud of yourself, aren’t you?” she asked, trying to look stern.

“Extremely,” Carmilla said, before standing up to leave. 

Laura just shook her head and scooted out of the booth and followed her friends out of the restaurant.

 

True to his word, Kirsch showed up the next morning with a backpack slung over shoulder and giant grin on face. “Got you a present, bro,” he said after he closed the door. He pulled the object from behind his back—a navy blue hat with a red C emblazoned on front—and placed it directly on her head.

Laura took it off of her head immediately to get a better look at it. “Thanks,” she muttered.

“I figured you’d appreciate this hat over the one with the other logo,” he said, referring to the most prominent and offensive Indians logo. “Plus, this way the C can stand for Cleveland or even Carmilla?” he asked with lilt in his voice, followed by a wink.

“Kirsch, what are you even—“

“Relax, Laura,” he said. “I was only teasing. But are you ready for baseball?”

Laura groaned, but walked him into the kitchen where her father and Carmilla were finishing a late breakfast.

“Kirsch,” her father said when he saw Vivian’s son, “what brings you by so early?”

“He’s coming to rectify one of your wrongs,” Carmilla answered.

Bill raised an eyebrow at Carmilla. “And what wrong would this be?”

“Carmilla told Kirsch I didn’t really know anything about baseball,” Laura explained, “which is apparently the most grievous offense, so he threatened to come and teach me today, and here he is.” She smiled insincerely at Carmilla and Kirsch.

“I brought my Playstation,” Kirsch said. 

Laura groaned. Bill laughed. “Laura’s terrible at video games.”

When Carmilla laughed, Laura glared at her. “How do I know you know anything about baseball?” Laura asked. “We’ve never talked about it.”

Carmilla rolled her eyes. “Nice try, Creampuff, but my step-brother played baseball, and I was dragged to his games all the time.”

“Yeah, sorry, Laura,” Kirsch said. “I can confirm she knows her stuff. She was trying to convince me to develop a change-up.”

“That’s because you need to diversify your pitches. A two-seam and four-seam fastball can’t be all you throw,” Carmilla insisted.

“So do you plan on helping Kirsch explain the game?” Bill asked, looking at three of them.

“I was actually hoping you weren’t busy,” Carmilla said, surprising Bill and Laura, by the looks on their faces.

“What did you have in mind?” Bill asked.

“I noticed your truck has a manual transmission,” Carmilla started. Laura could tell by the increased speed in Carmilla’s words that she was nervous. “And I was wondering if you could teach me how to drive stick-shift?”

“You don’t know how to drive stick?” Kirsch asked, horrified. “Do chicks know anything useful?”

“I wouldn’t say baseball is useful,” Laura said, scrunching her face at Kirsch. “And I also would refrain from calling girls ‘chicks,’ and I don’t think you want me to go on a rant about socially-constructed gender norms and expectations and how girls aren’t given the same opportunities and/or encouragement to learn ‘useful’ stuff outside of the domestic sphere, and then uses that lack of knowledge and an excuse to keep them out of positions of power and I’m ranting, aren’t I?“ 

Carmilla smiled and winked at her. Kirsch stood silently with his eyes wide. Bill laughed. Laura blushed.

“You just sounded a lot like my mom,” Kirsch finally said. “Only she would have also hit my head.”

“We could have that arranged too,” Carmilla said, and then added, “I love your mom.”

“That’s not necessary. I got the point.” 

“Good. I’d hate to see these girls destroy you, Kirsch,” Laura’s dad said. “So now that that’s all been settled, why do you want to learn how to drive a standard transmission?” he asked Carmilla. “Your answer can be to learn something useful,” he teased Kirsch again.

“Oh, um, when my dad died he left me his prized possession—a 1976 Porsche 911 Turbo—I swear he loved that thing more than he loved me. He spent a small fortune having it shipped from Germany, and it’s sitting in a garage in Styria because I don’t know how to drive it.”

Kirsch’s mouth dropped and Bill did a double-take. 

“You’ve been letting a super sexy, classic vehicle sit idle in a garage?” Kirsch asked, appalled. 

“I didn’t say that. I only said I couldn’t drive it. Each week I meet a friend and he takes me on a drive in it, but I sort of want to drive it myself. And I don’t want learn on that car, and my friend doesn’t have a stick-shift of his own to teach me, so I’m sort of stuck.” Carmilla kept her head down, as if she was revealing a life-long shame. “My dad died before he could teach me,” she added. 

Laura, who had been silent on this issue because she knew less about cars than she did about baseball, finally spoke in an effort to divert away from some of Carmilla’s sudden sadness. “It’s probably a good thing my dad didn’t know about it because he would have shown up in Styria and demanded he be allowed to drive it. 

“Oh no. As payment for her driving lessons, she’s going to have to let me drive that car next time I come visit you, Laura,” her father confirmed. 

Carmilla looked up at Laura and smiled. Then she turned to face Bill. “You have a deal.”

 

Two hours later (and just as much time into her baseball lesson), Laura was sitting on her couch—confused. “I don’t get it,” she admitted to Kirsch. “He struck out. Why is he safe at first base?”

“Because the catcher lost the ball,” he answered like it was obvious.

“But he’s out. He literally just swung and missed and then started running.”

“Yeah, but that’s because the ball got away from the catcher, so he has a chance to reach first and be safe.”

“But he struck out. ‘Three strikes you’re out.’ It’s in the song. It’s basically the only thing I know about baseball and you’re telling me it’s wrong.”

“It’s not wrong. Three strikes is an out. But this is a loophole to that rule. It’s the only time you can strike out and still get to first base safely.”

“That’s stupid,” Laura concluded.

“As a pitcher it’s not my favorite rule either, but that’s the rule.”

“Ugh. Why does anyone like this game? It’s slow and boring and failure is the expected outcome.”

“Okay, I guess that’s enough of baseball for the day,” Kirsch said. “But I promise you the more you understand the game, the more interesting it becomes. Just ask Carmilla.”

“Why does it even matter if I know about the game?”

“You mean other than the cultural benefit to being able to talk about it? You’re going to get some trivia question right because of what you just learned today and then you’ll thank me.” Kirsch smiled when Laura rolled her eyes. “But other than that, how else are you going to be able to follow my career if you don’t know what’s going on?”

Laura sighed. “Fine. I’ll try to keep an open mind.”

Kirsch smiled and then patted Laura’s head, a gesture Laura rewarded with a glare that made him laugh.

“Do you think it’s weird Carmilla and my dad aren’t back yet?” Laura asked.

“Depends. How long have they been gone?”

“Almost two hours.”

Kirsch shrugged his shoulders. “I guess it depends how quickly she’s taken to it. And maybe he’s testing her in all kinds of situations to prepare her for driving her ridiculously valuable car.”

“I can’t believe I didn’t know she even had a car,” Laura mumbled, more to herself than to Kirsch.

“Laura, she doesn’t have a car. She has a vintage Porsche from Germany. That thing’s gonna be a chick magnet once she starts using it.”

Laura kept quiet at Kirsch’s prediction and tried to hide the look of dread at the idea of Carmilla drawing the attention of any more girls. In the last couple of weeks she’d forgotten that that’s who Carmilla was—the consummate player. The idea made Laura sick, especially since she would have a front seat to all the action.

“You okay, Laura?” Kirsch asked. She must not have been hiding her thought process as well as she thought. 

“Huh?” she hummed vaguely.

“You look like someone just kicked your puppy or something.”

“No. Sorry. Just spacing out.”

“You know you just failed a test, right?” Kirsch started. He was hesitating a little. 

“What?”

“You know I only said that thing about Carmilla’s car being a chick magnet was to see how you’d respond.”

“What are you talking about?”

Kirsch rolled his eyes and shook his head. “You and Carmilla,” he answered.

“What about us?” Laura asked, heat rushing to her ears.

“You like her.”

“What are—“

“Stop. You’ll only embarrass yourself later. Don’t pretend the thought of her with other girls doesn’t make your heart sick.”

To her credit, Laura didn’t deny it. She simply leaned back until her back touched the back of the sofa and sighed. “That obvious, huh?”

“To anyone with eyes.”

Laura grabbed the throw pillow that was next to her and groaned into it. Kirsch laughed.

“You’re acting like this is the worst thing in the world,” Kirsch said. Laura could hear his smile, though she couldn’t see it. 

She dropped the pillow onto her lap and took a deep breath before releasing it. “I’m so screwed,” she said.

“Why do you say that?”

“Because I can’t like Carmilla. I can’t. Carmilla can have anyone she wants. And she rarely wants anyone for longer than one night. And I can’t do that. Even if she likes me like that—“

“’If’? You’re kidding me, right?” Laura looked up at Kirsch, furrowing her eyebrows. “Laura, that girl looks at you like you’re the only thing in this world that matters.”

Laura shook her head. “No,” she said. “No. Carmilla doesn’t— She’s not like that. And even if she was, why would she like me?”

Kirsch just stared at her until Laura look up at him. “You’re ridiculous. Why wouldn’t she like you?”

Laura was about to open her mouth to protest when the front door opened and Carmilla and her dad walked in. “I survived,” her father announced as he walked to the kitchen and dropped a bag of take out onto the kitchen counter. “And, more importantly, the truck survived,” he joked, winking at Carmilla.

Carmilla shook her head, but she was smiling. And then, when she caught Laura’s eyes, her smile grew and Laura couldn’t help but return it. 

At the smell of burgers and fries, Kirsch got up and walked to the kitchen, where Laura’s dad was emptying the bags and distributing the food onto plates. Carmilla sat down on the couch in the spot Kirsch had just vacated and Laura didn’t wait long to ask how the driving lesson went.

“It was touch-and-go there for a minute. I kept stalling the truck in the Walmart parking lot. But your dad wouldn’t let me stop until I got it.”

“Sounds like my dad,” Laura said, picking at a frayed edge of the throw pillow she still had on her lap.

“But then once I’d managed not the stall the truck over and over again, he thought it’d be fun to take me on real streets, so he directed me around Wooster and gave me a pretty extensive tour, until he led me out of town onto 585 so I could go faster. We ended up half-way to Akron, I think? He said he wanted to get me onto an interstate, but we didn’t have that much time. So he made me go through the drive-thru and pick up our lunch.”

“Does that mean you can drive your Porsche when you get back?” Laura asked.

Carmilla didn’t say anything for a brief, though prolonged, moment. “I think so. He said he could come out for Martin Luther King Jr. Day weekend if I wanted to wait until then, but I think I’d like to give it a shot. Want to come with me when I do?” she asked. And when Laura looked at Carmilla, she noticed her roommate wasn’t looking at her and instead stared at her hands which were intertwined on her lap. 

“I’d love to,” Laura answered honestly. 

She’d just caught the smile that formed on Carmilla’s mouth, though she was still looking down, when her father interrupted the moment. “You girls going to come and get some lunch?”

“Yeah, Dad,” Laura said as she stood up and walked to the kitchen. Carmilla followed just behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm actually a huge baseball fan, so Laura's thoughts on the game to not reflect my own.
> 
> Last one will go up on Monday. Thanks for reading.


	11. New Year

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter, but it's really the length of two or two and a half chapters, so there's that. More words at the end. Enjoy.

Kirsch left the following day. He promised his girlfriend he’d spend New Year’s Eve with her, so he left the morning of the last day of the year. Laura hoped the weather didn’t delay him, but she would miss having him around. He gave Carmilla and her something to do, which provided Laura a break from having to deal with whatever was going on with Carmilla because nothing was currently going on with Carmilla. Well, nothing more than what had already been going on with her roommate. The looks, the small touches, the smiles, the nighttime cuddling: none of that had changed. And while Laura loved all of it, the uncertainty was killing her. It didn’t matter what everyone thought they knew. Her aunts, Kirsch, Vivian, even her dad didn’t know Carmilla like she did. They’d only seen this one small window of her, whereas Laura had the full picture, and it was something she couldn’t reconcile. 

She was unloading the dishwasher while Carmilla was in the family room doing something on her phone when the doorbell rang and Vivian walked in a few moments later. Laura considered it progress when she didn’t immediately roll her eyes or wish her gone. She had to credit Kirsch for that—and Carmilla too, since Carmilla really liked Vivian for some reason. Plus, she seemed to make her dad happy, and that’s all she really wanted.

“Vivian brought us lunch,” Bill said, carrying a Buehler’s bag. He was smiling at Vivian, as she began to unpack the items and put them into the refrigerator. 

Carmilla walked into the kitchen to greet Kirsch’s mom. “What are you two up to today?” she asked after saying hello and taking a seat on the bar stool across the counter from Laura. “It’s New Year’s Eve; I’m sure you have plans.”

Laura stared at Carmilla for a moment trying to find a hidden meaning behind her question. Laura didn’t have any plans for the night, and she wondered if this bothered Carmilla. They hadn’t even talked about doing anything.

“We’re going to the New Year’s Eve party,” Vivian answered. “Aren’t you guys? Bill tells me it’s a Wooster tradition—a time for the townies to get together and party while the university kids are away.” She looked over at Bill who nodded in confirmation.

“We hadn’t really discussed what we’re going to do yet,” Laura answered, feeling a bit guilty. She hadn’t forgotten about the annual event. She just didn’t like being with the people in her town. Vivian was right. This party was a big deal. Everyone went. And that was the problem. Laura didn’t want another confrontation with Olivia or have to feel like the entire town was whispering about her in plain sight. And she definitely didn’t want to drag Carmilla into it.

“You have to come,” Vivian tried again. “It’ll be fun." 

Laura doubted it.

“They’re doing a casino theme. I have two extra tickets if you want to go,” her dad added unhelpfully.

Carmilla, who had remained silent throughout the conversation, walked over to where Laura stood gripping the kitchen counter a little too tightly. She tucked a strand of Laura’s hair that had fallen from her loose bun when she’d bent down to remove the contents of the dishwasher’s bottom rack behind her ear, and Laura’s grip on the counter relaxed. She didn’t dare look at Carmilla in that moment because she didn’t know what to make of any of it. But Carmilla slipped past her and grabbed one of the glasses she’d just removed and helped herself to some water. “Thanks, Bill. We’ll think about it,” Carmilla said before taking a sip of her water and deflecting the attention away from Laura. 

Carmilla brought it up a couple of hours later. Bill and Vivian were out on a walk. Laura had been quiet all day, since even before Vivian brought up the New Year’s party, but that definitely hadn’t helped. “I know you don’t want to go to that party tonight, but it might be fun,” she said to Laura in the middle of a  _Chopped_ marathon they had on, even though neither was watching carefully.

When Laura didn’t respond, she pressed on. “It might be good for you, you know.” 

That got Laura’s attention. She turned to face Carmilla and tried not to glare at her. But she didn’t say anything. She wanted to hear Carmilla’s pitch.

Carmilla swallowed and then took a deep breath. “It could be your coming out party.”

Laura couldn’t help the laugh that escaped or the smile that formed on her traitorous mouth. “I’m already out, remember? That’s sort of the problem.”

“You’re out on their terms. It’s time you came out on yours,” Carmilla reasoned. “Besides, what better way to get back at everyone than proudly owning what they’ve tried to ridicule? It’ll also help your case that you’re bringing a smoking hot and mysterious date.”

Laura laughed again. “Oh yeah? Who’d you get to be my date?” she smirked, feeling a great sense of triumph.

Carmilla’s jaw dropped, and Laura couldn’t hold back her laughter.  “I’m going to remember this, Hollis,” Carmilla said. 

“You walked right into that one,” Laura said.

“Whatever,” Carmilla grumbled. 

When Carmilla didn’t say anything else, Laura spoke. “We’ll go to the party. I know you want to go and I’m being really selfish and you’ve been so great and you’re probably bored out of your mind here because we haven’t done anything, so—“

“Laura, no,” Carmilla said, stopping the self-deprecating tirade Laura was on. It’s what she’d been feeling throughout the break and it all came sputtering out. “If you think that I wouldn’t be happy staying here with you doing anything, nothing, whatever, you’re delusional.” Laura’s eyebrows furrowed as she dropped her head. “Do I think the party will be fun? Yeah. But so would staying in and watching the Aquarium Channel. Trust me, I don’t have to go to this party. I don’t even like people.” Laura looked up at her and couldn’t stop the smirk on her mouth or the eyebrow that shot up at Carmilla’s words. “Most people,” Carmilla amended, and Laura’s smirk transformed into a smug, self-satisfied expression. 

“But I do think we should go,” Carmilla continued. “You should go—for yourself—so that the next time you come home, you don’t feel like you can’t go out and do whatever it is people do here.”

“There’s not much to do here,” Laura grumbled.

“That’s not the point,” Carmilla said, smiling and rolling her eyes. “But you can’t let them win. Go out. Dance. Have fun. Start the new year on your terms.”

Laura bit into the inside part of her cheek as she considered Carmilla’s words. And when she looked up at her roommate she noticed that Carmilla’s eyes sparkled with possibility and her lips curled into the tiniest of smirks by way of a challenge. Laura wanted to believe her. She wanted to be able to come home and know she wasn’t hiding from anyone. She wanted to be able to go out and have dinner with her dad or go run an errand for him without having to think about who she might see.

“OK,” Laura said, taking a deep breath. “I’ll go to the party.” Carmilla smiled and it looked like was about to speak but Laura cut her off. “But only if you’ll go with me. I have no desire to go with this hot, mysterious stranger you’re bent on setting me up with.”

Carmilla gasped and flipped Laura off. “You’re such an asshole,” she said. 

Laura winked and then smiled.

They didn't do much the rest of the day. Laura took Carmilla out in the truck while they ran errands to give her more practice driving a clutch. But it gave them a purpose and distracted Laura from freaking out about the party they were attending. 

 

Laura and Bill made a pizza for dinner—a Hollis family New Year's Eve tradition that started when Laura was about ten years old when she wanted to celebrate the holiday but was too young to actually do anything. Back then, ordering pizza to be delivered the house was the ultimate treat, since the Hollis' rarely ordered takeout. The tradition survived Laura's mother's death and had evolved. Turns out Laura and Bill could make an even better-tasting pizza than the local delivery places offered, and the act of making the pie together was its own kind of reward. 

"We're really going to have to find you a kitchen when we get back to campus," Carmilla said after taking her first bite. "All this time I've lived with you I had no idea you could cook and then I find out you're Julia fucking Child."

"Definitely not Julia Child," Laura said, smiling internally. "I've cooked you pretty basic stuff."

 

They got ready for the evening in separate rooms. Laura wore a dark pair of jeans with a pink Oxford and a cardigan and a pair of loafers she'd found in the back of her closet that she'd had in high school. She hadn't packed anything for a night out, as she didn't think she'd be going out. The outfit, though something she would wear on normal occasions without scrutiny, didn't inspire confidence for what she had to face tonight. She looked every bit the part of Laura Hollis: goody-goody girl next door with an interest in nerdy pop culture and the fashion sense of a prude. And normally that didn't bother her. She knew who she was and didn't usually get so wrapped in her appearance. But she didn't usually go out to show the kids from her high school that she'd thrived on her own at Silas. And she didn't expect to do that with Carmilla as her date. If it was a date, that is. She still wasn't sure. Regardless, her outfit didn't provide contrast to the Laura she'd always been, and she didn't feel confident in the way she wanted to. 

Seeing Carmilla did not help to assuage any of her doubts. Where Laura's outfit was plain and conservative, Carmilla was dressed to draw attention. She came from the bathroom wearing tight leather pants and corset she was passing for a top, and when Laura saw her, her mouth went dry and her jaw dropped. 

Carmilla smirked at her in a way that conveyed to Laura she'd gotten the reaction she'd been going for. 

"What do you think?" Carmilla asked with that smug grin still adorning her face. 

"Wow," Laura said, swallowing. "I think I need to change." 

"What?" Carmilla blurted, frowning. "Why?"

Laura walked to her closet to look for something—anything—she could wear that would be better than what she had on. "Because it's like I'm some Sandra Dee knock off to your very convincing Danny Zuko. But before the ending when she got all hot and cool."

"The ending of _Grease_ is stupid." Laura could hear Carmilla's attempt to hide her smirk rather than see it. "Danny liked Sandy as she was—before all the tight leather." Laura stilled at her closet door but didn't say anything. "And sending a message to girls that you have to change who you are to please someone else is gross and damaging." Laura smiled, even though Carmilla couldn't see her. "And don't even get me started on that flying car." Carmilla finally got her to laugh and turn around and, returning Laura's smile, said, "Besides, you look really nice."

Laura scoffed. "Yeah, maybe as that middle aged woman in the JCrew catalog."

Carmilla shook her head and rolled her eyes. "You're going to have to stop putting yourself down for the rest of the night. You look perfect—right now and always," Carmilla said with the slightest shade of pink on her cheeks. "And, I mean," she continued, drawing attention to her body with her hands, "do you think this girl would be seen at a New Year’s Eve party with someone who'd make her look any less hot?"

It was Laura's turn to roll her eyes and shake her head. "You're so full of yourself," she said, smiling. "Let's go get this over with."

 

The party was in full swing by the time they arrived. Carmilla thought it was best if they made an entrance, but Laura was less sure. She'd spent years just trying to blend in and not disturb the status quo. Coming to this party with Carmilla as her date—Carmilla who was dressed like every man's bad girl fantasy—was the exact opposite of keeping a low profile. 

Carmilla grabbed her hand, lacing their fingers together diverting Laura's attention away from her thoughts, though merely replacing one type nerves with another. "You ready?" Carmilla asked just outside the entrance to the party, a soft smile on her face that was so sincere and warm that Laura just wanted to kiss her—right then and there. 

"Not really," Laura said instead. "But I don't think I'll ever be."

"I'll be right next to you the entire night," Carmilla reminded her. 

Laura nodded and then took a deep breath. "Okay. Let's get this over with." 

Carmilla squeezed her hand and led them through the entrance. 

 

"Laura Hollis, is that you?" a woman seated at the entry table asked when she handed over her tickets to the other attendant at the table. 

"Hello, Mrs. Eckels," Laura said to her tenth grade geometry teacher. "Happy New Year."

"I thought I told you to stop calling me Mrs. Eckles. You knew me as Connie before I even got married, years before I was your teacher. Plus, you're not a student at the high school anymore," the woman insisted. 

Laura blushed but nodded. 

"Your father mentioned you'd be here tonight," the woman continued. "You're looking so grown up and beautiful—so much like your mother."

Laura blushed. "You think so?"

Mrs. Eckles smiled. "You have your father's eyes, but the rest is all Theresa."

“Thank you, Connie,” Laura said. She loved when people told her she reminded them of her mother, and from Connie Eckles it meant a lot. Carmilla squeezed her hand, and Laura smiled and winked when she glanced up at her. 

Laura noticed that Mrs. Eckles’ eyed their linked hands quizzically. Still clad in their winter coats, Carmilla’s outfit had yet to steal everyone’s attention, but Wooster was a small town and people talked and Carmilla was a force to be seen wherever she went, regardless of what she was wearing, and, well, they were also holding hands.

“Connie,” Laura said with an amount of confidence she didn’t know how to explain. “This is my date, Carmilla. She’s a student at Silas too.” She was careful with her words, not wanting to lie, exactly, but happy to let people’s imaginations do the work for her.

“Pleasure to meet you,” Carmilla said, dropping Laura’s hand to offer it to the woman with whom Laura spoke. “I gather you were one of Laura’s teachers?”

Connie smirked at Laura before giving Carmilla her attention. “Nice to meet you, Carmilla. I’ve known Laura since before she knew how to tie her shoes, but I was also one of her high school math teachers.”

“She was one of my mom’s best friends,” Laura supplied. “So I should probably get you away from her before she tells you any embarrassing stories about me,” she said, wrapping her arm around Carmilla’s elbow.

Connie laughed when Carmilla shot an eyebrow up. She looked like she was about to speak when Laura asked her high school teacher where the coat room was and if there was anything else they needed for the party. 

“You each get fifty dollars’ worth of casino chips with your ticket,” Connie explained, handing each of them a small pouch with the chips. “Use these at any of the games you want to play. If you find you want more, there are some available for purchase inside. All proceeds go to charity. The coat room is just inside to your right. Enjoy your evening ladies.”

“Thanks, Connie,” Laura said, leading Carmilla into the party room.

 

“You’re not going to be cold?” Laura asked, trying not to ogle her roommate now that their coats were removed.

“Laura, you—“ Carmilla bit her lip and shook her head.

“What?” Laura asked.

“Nothing. Let’s go play craps.”

“No. What were you going to say?”

“I can’t tell you that,” Carmilla said, shaking her head and looking towards the party. 

“Carmilla,” Laura said, grabbing Carmilla’s elbow again and using her other hand to jab a finger into her ribs. “Tell me.”

“Fine,” Carmilla said, blushing. “I was going to say that you’re the hottest thing in the room so there’s no way I’d get cold, but then remembered I had a reputation to uphold and I really couldn’t have that coming out of my mouth.”

Laura burst out laughing and looked smug. “That is an awful line.”

“I know.”

“I can’t believe you were going to say that.”

“I know. I’m ashamed of myself.”

“How do you even get girls with lines like that?”

“They’re not really there for my words, Cupcake,” Carmilla hedged.

Laura looked like a baby eating peas for the first time. “Ew. I walked right into that one.”

Carmilla said nothing but raised her eyebrows.

Laura reached for her arm again, not caring if she was allowing herself to get too used to the feeling of Carmilla pressed up against her. “Come on, let me keep you warm while we find some drinks and you explain to me how to play craps.”

Carmilla smiled. “Lead the way, Sundance.”

It didn’t take long for people to register their presence. Laura tried to tune out everything but the feel of Carmilla’s arm and the smell of her perfume, but she couldn’t help but noticed the heads that turned as they walked by or the whispers that followed. While they stood in line for drinks, Laura saw the faces of a few of her high school classmates trying—though failing—not to stare.

“How are you doing?” Carmilla asked quietly, burying her face in Laura’s hair.

Laura took a deep breath. “Everyone is looking at us,” she mumbled back.

Carmilla moved her arm from Laura’s grasp and wrapped it around her waist to hold her closer. "That's sort of the point," she said, grinning. "Take a deep breath and try to relax. Let them stare. Let them try to figure it all out. Let them see you happy." 

And when Carmilla kissed her cheek, Laura did. 

It turned out that Laura really liked craps. Or, well, not the game itself because she wasn't really playing, but she loved rolling the dice while Carmilla made the decisions on where to place their chips. The table loved her too, since she seemed to have a lucky hand and rolled a couple of impressive streaks for the group. Carmilla had nearly doubled their chips playing the game, so when Laura's most recent streak ended, they decided to take a break. 

They found a cruiser table with a few empty plates and cups scattered on the surface but no occupants using the space. Carmilla left to get them drinks while Laura was tasked with the very important job of holding the table and finding snacks. The latter task required all her attention, so she didn't see that Alex Sobek now stood in front her, a shy smile on her face. 

"Hey, Laura," she said. 

Laura eyed her skeptically and then took a quick glance around the room to see if she could see where Carmilla was and what was taking her so long. Hadn't she promised to be next to her the entire night to avoid this exact scenario.

"Hey," Laura returned, still looking for Carmilla and hoping she'd return soon so that she didn't have to be with Alex alone for very long. 

"How was your Christmas?" Alex asked. 

“It was good. Thanks. Yours?” Laura asked as politely as she could.

“It was nice. My cousins came in from Wisconsin,” she said. “I hadn’t seen them in a few years. 

Laura gave her a closed-mouth smile and nodded her head ever-so slightly, but didn’t do anything else to continue the conversation.

“So," Alex began in the absence of Laura's response. "Your girlfriend is really pretty,” she hedged.

Laura glared at her but didn’t know how else to respond.

“I have to admit, it surprises me a bit,” she continued.

“What does?” Laura asked against her better judgment.

“The two of you together,” Alex clarified. “She isn’t the kind of girl I’d imagine you with.”

“’ _The kind of girl_ ,’” Laura repeated, incredulous. “You think she’s too pretty for me?”

“What? No. Of course not.”

“What are you trying to imply, then?”

“I guess I always pictured you with someone less edgy. Someone you could cuddle up on the couch and watch _Doctor Who_ with and who would play chess with your dad—“

“You don’t know anything about her. And you don’t know anything about me. Not anymore.”

“C’mon, Laura—“

“No, Alex. Just stop. I thought you came over here to apologize for last week at the mall or for that fact that you outed me in front of our whole school and made my final weeks of high school miserable and my hometown a place I hate coming back to. But instead you have the audacity to come over here to insult me and Carmilla? Fuck you.”

“Laura, I didn’t mean—“

“Hey, Cutie.” Carmilla’s voice was music to Laura’s ears. And when Laura turned her head to the sound of her voice, she saw her staring back, eyebrows reaching for the top of her head holding a drink in both of her hands. Laura smiled and forgot, ever so briefly, that Alex was even there. 

“Everything okay here?” Carmilla asked, setting down their drinks on the table and bringing her arm around Laura’s waist. 

"Everything's fine," Alex answered, and Laura confirmed with a slight nod. 

"Sorry it took me so long," Carmilla said to Laura, and Laura could see in her eyes that she was also saying, _Sorry I left you alone for so long_. Laura squeezed the hand Carmilla had wrapped around her to assure her that she was really okay. 

"Laura and I were just catching up," Alex said. 

"And you didn't bring your charming friend with you?" Carmilla asked of Olivia. 

"Olivia's here somewhere, but I wanted to talk to Laura without her around."

"Great, well, we talked, so Happy New Year, Alex," Laura said before Carmilla could continue the conversation about them and signal to Alex that she didn't want to talk, particularly since Alex didn't seem contrite. 

Laura turned her back to Alex, deciding whether or not she and Carmilla should just stay at the table and wait for Alex to leave or take their drinks to another section of the party room floor to remove themselves from the situation. 

"Hey, Carmilla?" Alex asked as if she was unsure of the girl's name, and Laura remembered she'd never officially introduced them. 

Carmilla, who was in the process of following Laura's lead to the table, stopped and looked up, wordlessly allowing Alex to continue. 

"I was just curious which Doctor is you favorite." 

Laura turned to face Alex again and glared at her, willing her hand to stay down so she didn't flip her off. She wanted to punch the smirk off Alex's face. 

"Doctor?" Carmilla asked. 

Alex laughed quietly. "Yeah. In _Doctor Who_ : which one do you like the best?"

Laura didn't understand what Alex's game was here. She couldn't understand why it mattered to her so much that Carmilla watch _Dr. Who_ or why that was some kind of prerequisite for dating Laura. 

"Well, I know Laura here would want me to say Tennant," Carmilla said, "but I'm kind of partial to Capaldi's interpretation of the character more. I like how prickly he is, but that may be because I can't see him and not think of Malcolm Tucker, who may be one of my favorite TV characters ever." 

Laura's jaw dropped. She forgot Alex was standing there. All she could do was stare at Carmilla with affection and awe, so she really couldn't be blamed for wrapping both of her arms around her waist from the side and kissing her on the cheek and whispering "Of course you'd pick Capaldi" in her ear.

Carmilla laughed and then smiled so genuinely and so brightly that Laura ached for more of this woman. She knew she had to say something to her and hope that Carmilla felt the same way or that in telling her she could get over this monumental crush, but either way Laura needed it to be much more or considerably less. 

Turning her attention back to Alex, Carmilla added, "But of the modern doctors, anyone is better than that Matt Smith twerp. What a jackass!" And Laura laughed because the eleventh doctor was always Alex's favorite, and Carmilla had just insulted her without even knowing. 

When Laura turned back to face Alex, she saw that Alex's attention was fixed on Carmilla, her eyes trying to bore a hole through her roommate. Carmilla kept her eyes on Alex's in some weird stare down.

Alex turned away first, looking between Laura and Carmilla and the way they were wrapped up together and then finally shook her head as if to reset herself. Laura saw that her eyes, which moments ago looked stormy and black, now looked forlorn, resigned. 

"You look happy, Laura," she said finally. "I'm glad."

"Thanks, Alex. I am happy," Laura said, smiling up at Carmilla as she said it. 

"Look, you probably won't believe me given what just happened, but I had intended to apologize to you when I came over here. I don't know what came over me. And I shouldn't have said something when Olivia went off on you and Carmilla last week." Alex stopped and took a deep breath before she continued. "As for what I did to you in high school... It's unforgivable, really, and I don't have any excuses, just a lot of questions and an even bigger amount of regret, and there are things you should know. Hopefully we can have those conversations one day—you were my best friend, after all, but for now just know that I'm sorry and that I hope you're happier now."

Laura didn't know what to say. She was skeptical, curious, speechless, shocked.

"I don't expect you to say anything," Alex said after a moment. "I just wanted to get that out there."

Laura managed to smile and nod her head at that. 

"Hold onto her, Carmilla. Girls like Laura Hollis don't come around very often."

"There aren't  _girls_  like Laura," Carmilla said, looking into Laura's eyes. "There's just Laura," she added, as her focus went down to Laura's lips for the briefest, most deceptive part of a second before looking directly into her eyes again. Her own sparkled, unable to hide the smile Laura could see from the periphery of her vision. And without tearing her eyes away, she said, "Anyone who would willingly let her go is an idiot."

If Alex was insulted by the jab at her, she didn't say anything. She simply wished them a Happy New Year again and walked away. 

"How are you doing?" Carmilla asked when Alex was far enough away. Laura was still latched onto Carmilla, but Carmilla didn't seem to mind.

"I'm actually okay," Laura replied, smiling. 

"Sorry I left you alone for so long to deal with it yourself."

"You don't have to apologize for that. Besides, I don't think she would have come up to me if you'd been around."

Carmilla looked at Laura for a second, as if she was looking for Laura's eyes to tell a different story. She must have gotten the confirmation she needed because she smiled and let out a breath and, nodding her head just once, said, "It's just after eleven. Let's go play blackjack."

"Not so fast, Carm," Laura said, pulling her closer as Carmilla had tried to propel them towards the blackjack tables and out of Laura's embrace. "Are we going to talk about how it is you know so much about _Doctor Who_?"

Carmilla bit her lip to hide a smile, but she shook her head. 

"I thought you told me you'd never seen an episode," Laura continued. And when Carmilla wouldn't meet her eye, she asked, "Have you been holding out on me? Have you been hiding a giant _Doctor Who_ nerd underneath this too-cool-for-school leather facade?"

Carmilla rolled her eyes. "It's blackjack time," she said, ignoring Laura. 

"I'm not going to forget this, you know. We are going to talk about it." But Laura dropped the subject in the moment and let Carmilla, who was smirking and now holding her hand, lead her to the blackjack tables. 

 

"Where'd you learn how to play blackjack?" Carmilla asked when Laura won another hand at the game. There were about twenty minutes left in the year, and Laura was destroying everyone, including Carmilla, at the table. 

"Uncle Dave," Laura answered without taking her eyes off the table as she tapped the surface for another card. "We used to play for cookies when I was in middle school, and, I mean, I really like cookies."

Carmilla laughed and then surrendered her hand and watched as table showed their cards. Laura winked at Carmilla when the dealer revealed she had another winning hand. And as Laura was collecting her winnings, Carmilla saw Bill approach their table. 

He put his hands on Laura's shoulders. "How are my two favorite Silas students doing?" he asked, as Laura looked up and him and smiled. 

"Your daughter is doing much better than I am at the moment," Carmilla answered, shaking her head. 

"She didn't hustle you, did she?" he asked, laughing. 

"We're sharing all our winnings tonight, so she can't accuse me of that," Laura said. 

"I see. Well, it's getting close to midnight, and I was hoping to get to dance with you before the year ends," he said to his daughter. "Do you mind if I take her for a few minutes, Carmilla? I'll have her back well before the countdown."

"She doesn't need my permission," Carmilla said, and the smile on Laura's face communicated that she appreciated the answer. "Meet me by the bar when you're finished," Carmilla said as Laura walked away. 

Bill led his daughter onto the dance floor. "Where's Vivian?" Laura asked. 

"She's talking to one of her neighbors. I thought it was the perfect chance to spend a few minutes with you tonight," he said. "I haven't really seen you guys around. Are you having a good night?" 

Laura looked up to meet her dad's eyes and nodded. "I am, actually. Thanks for getting the extra tickets."

"Of course, sweetheart," her father said. 

"Are you having a good time tonight? I know Vivian was excited about it earlier," Laura said, because even if she didn't want to think about her dad on a date, she wanted him to be happy. 

"We're having fun," he replied. He looked briefly around the room, distracted. "Although I had an interesting conversation with Miriam Sobek a little while ago."

Laura stopped dancing for a moment before finding the rhythm again and asking, "Alex's mom?" Her father nodded. "What'd she want?"

Bill looked around the room for a second before saying, "She came to ask me why I was allowing my daughter to quote 'flaunt her unnatural relationship' at a family event."

"What?"

"You could imagine my shock—not that Miriam Sobek would reveal herself to be a giant homophobe, which we already knew, of course, but that she thought you were in a relationship."

Laura bit her lip. "What'd you say to her?" she asked. 

"I told her it was really none of her business what my daughter did or who she dated and that I didn't know why she was bringing it up to me since my daughter is a fiercely independent woman who doesn't need my permission to date."

Laura smiled warmly at her father. "I bet she took that well."

Bill laughed. "She stomped off in a huff. Vivian was really confused and not at all impressed." He paused for a moment before saying anything else. He furrowed his eyebrows before speaking again. "But Miriam did get me thinking. And do you want to tell me why she thought you might be flaunting your relationship around? You don't have anything to tell me, right?"

"I'm not in a relationship with Carmilla, dad," Laura finally said. 

Bill nodded, but didn't say anything. 

"But there's probably a juicy rumor going around this hall that we are, which we're sort of not playing down," she admitted. 

Bill looked down at his daughter as if searching for additional meaning in her eyes. "Why?" he asked. "You've been adamant since you've been home that nothing is going on between you."

"Because there isn't anything going on between us," Laura said, her voice louder than she intended.

"So you keep saying."

"What does that mean?" Laura asked, her eyebrows pulled together in consternation. She didn't know why she asked the question; she knew she wouldn't like the answer. 

Laura stared at her father as he considered his answer. “Do you want anything to be going on between you?” he asked. 

Laura’s eyes fell to his chest, and if it wasn’t for her father’s lead, she’s certain she would have stopped dancing as she considered how she should answer.

“I don’t need an answer,” he told her. “I just want you to consider what you’re doing. I see the way you look at her,” her father continued. “And I’ve seen the way she looks at you. I don’t need to know how either one of you feel, but I don’t want you to get hurt. And I don’t want her to get hurt either. I’ve grown rather fond of her over the last two weeks.” 

Laura nodded, affirming that she heard what he said. And then he stopped dancing, and she looked up at his eyes again, and he was smiling at her.

“The song’s finished,” he said, as if he knew she had no idea the music had changed. “I better go find Vivian before she starts to panic that I’ve turned into a pumpkin or something, and you’d better go find Carmilla.” He wrapped his arms around Laura in the all-encompassing way he always hugged her before she went back to Styria, when he wouldn’t be seeing her for a while. After only a couple of seconds, he said, in a voice only she could hear, “If she’s who you want, there’s no better chance than now. You’re not going to get a more perfect, sappy, clichéd, or symbolic moment than the New Year. Be brave,” he said. “Tell her how you feel.” And he placed a kiss on her forehead and added, “But don’t stay out too late tonight or I’ll start to panic.”

Laura rolled her eyes, but she nodded anyway. She pulled him back in for one more hug before she let go. “Thanks, dad.”

“Anytime, kiddo.” And then he walked away.

 

Laura saw her standing, where she said she’d be, by the bar. She'd covered most of the corset with her red and black flannel—Laura's favorite—which she'd left unbuttoned. When she registered Laura's presence, she smiled. It was oddly shy and incredibly charming, and Laura couldn't help but smile back at her in return. 

"How was the dance?" she asked, sipping on a glass of what appeared to be water. 

"It was good," Laura said. She didn't want to be thinking about her dad right now, so she said, "We have about seven minutes before the countdown," pointing to the giant clock on the stage in the middle of the room. 

"Yeah," Carmilla said, placing the glass of water down on the bar and then leaned over to grab something behind her on the floor. "I thought maybe we could go outside," she said, handing Laura her coat and hat and putting her own jacket on in the process. 

Laura looked at her roommate, trying to figure out what Carmilla was up to and why she wanted to go outside in the middle of the winter in the middle of the night. But another part of Laura didn't really care as long as she got to be with Carmilla, so she put on her coat and fitted her hat over her head. "Lead the way," she said, managing not to ask a single question and just enjoy the moment. 

Carmilla led her outside onto a terrace where, in nicer weather, people could enjoy the view, which overlooked what appeared would be a beautifully maintained garden. In the winter, they looked out onto bare trees and shrubs, but it was still nice, peaceful. 

“You’ll have to forgive me for dragging you out in the cold,” Carmilla said, stuffing her hands into the pockets of her jacket and looking down at her feet, where she just kicked something away. “I selfishly wanted some quiet time with just you. I hope that’s okay.”

Laura walked over to railing at the edge of the terrace and took in the view before turning around and leaning against the wall. She was smiling. “You know you don’t need to apologize for that,” she said, chuckling to herself. “But it is freezing out here,” she admitted, hugging her arms to her chest.

“I thought about that,” Carmilla said, reaching into her bag. She pulled out two ceramic mugs and a small thermos and smirked. “I may have borrowed a couple of mugs from inside while you were dancing and your dad’s Thermos,” she said sheepishly, “but this should help to warm you up.” She poured a hot liquid into one of the mugs and handed it to Laura and then poured another one for herself.

Laura looked at the steaming drink in her mug. “Hot chocolate?” she asked, failing to hide her smile. “Where’d you find hot chocolate?”

Carmilla turned away, biting her lips closed before she spoke. “I may have borrowed a couple of packets that I found at your dad’s house, too.”

Laura looked at her, a quizzical expression on her face. “You were planning this,” she said. She wasn’t sure if it was a question or a statement, but her inner journalist was starting to wake up.

“I thought it might come in handy just in case,” Carmilla admitted.

Laura looked at her, really looked at her, as she took a sip from her mug. The drink was sweet and warm and thoughtful, and it was Laura’s favorite. Carmilla looked oddly insecure, slouching a bit as she walked over to the railing where Laura was and took a sip from her own mug as she looked out onto the garden.

“In case what?” Laura asked, quietly, turning around to mirror Carmilla, leaning her elbows on the rail but keeping her head trained on Carmilla.

Carmilla set her mug onto the ledge of the wall, just under the metal rail, before turning her head to face Laura. She took a deep breath and then licked her lips, as she looked down to Laura’s lips. They could hear the emcee call out that there was only one minute before midnight, and Laura could have sworn her heartbeat was keeping time, it was beating so hard, but neither she nor Carmilla made a sound.

“Fifty seconds,” she heard the emcee say.

“No one would have bought that we were a couple if we didn’t share a kiss at midnight,” Carmilla began, “and I wasn’t sure how you’d feel about that.”

“Forty-five seconds!”

“But it would also be my life’s biggest regret if I didn’t kiss you.”

“Forty seconds!”

“And I couldn’t have you thinking I was just kissing you because I was playing my part in being a convincing girlfriend,” she said.

Laura gulped but couldn’t tear her eyes away from Carmilla.

“Thirty seconds!”

“And I really want to kiss you,” she said, looking down to Laura’s lips again. “Like, you have no idea how much I’ve wanted to kiss you over the last couple of months.”

Laura couldn’t believe what she was hearing, and she also couldn’t believe that she couldn’t move. Carmilla was talking about kissing her and Laura could just do it. She could just lean over and kiss her and take some of the pressure off of her roommate, but she couldn’t move.

“Twenty seconds!”

“But I needed to get you alone, so you didn’t think this was just for show. And I know it’s sappy and clichéd, but—“

And Laura kissed her. It was hard and hungry and took Carmilla off guard for a moment before she must have registered what was happening because she slowed them down while also threading her right hand through Laura’s hair, holding her head as she continued to kissing her.

“Ten! Nine!” The partygoers had begun the final countdown, and while Laura heard them, she wasn’t registering anything but the feeling of Carmilla’s lips on hers.

Carmilla moved closer to Laura, wrapping her left arm around Laura’s waist to pull their bodies closer together without breaking their kiss. Laura brought her hands to cup Carmilla’s face and took advantage of Carmilla’s gasp to move her tongue into Carmilla’s mouth.

“Five!”

Carmilla smiled at Laura’s boldness, disturbing the rhythm of their kiss for a brief second before finding it again.

Laura, who had been freezing less than a minute ago, was on fire. The crowd’s collective “Happy New Year” did nothing to mask the whimper that escaped when her tongue touched Carmilla’s for the first time, nor did it bring their kissing to a close. Carmilla moved her other hand from Laura’s hair to join it to the other already around Laura’s waist. The movement knocked Laura’s hat off her head, but didn’t break the kiss, despite the fact that breathing was becoming difficult. But she wasn’t ready for this to end.

The sound of a man’s voice saying “Oh shit!” followed by the sound of a door closing finally brought the kiss to a close. Laura looked over Carmilla’s shoulder, as Carmilla turned her head to the noise. When they found that no one was there, Carmilla turned her head back and laughed. It was the lopsided and goofy and so completely happy that Laura leaned in and kissed her again as tenderly as she could manage.

“Happy New Year, Carm,” she said with her eyes closed, as she rested her forehead against Carmilla’s, trying to catch her breath.

“Happy New Year, Laura,” Carmilla returned, rubbing her thumbs lightly against Laura’s waist. She leaned in for another kiss, which started out slow but heated up quickly.

“Wow,” Carmilla said when they pulled apart again. Laura had no idea how much past midnight it was, and she didn’t care. “Your lips are really addicting.”

“Yeah?” Laura asked shyly. She still wasn’t convinced she wasn’t in the middle of a delicious but cruel dream.

“Yeah,” Carmilla said, taking a deep breath before she moved to pick up Laura’s hat from the ground. “Sorry,” she said, placing it back onto her head as she leaned in for a quick kiss. “See?” she asked, laughing at herself.

Laura wrapped her arms around Carmilla’s waist to bring them back closer together and took a deep breath. “A couple of months, huh?” she asked still in disbelief.

Carmilla laughed. “About that, yeah.”

“Wow. I had no idea,” Laura admitted.

Carmilla smiled.

“Way to steal my thunder,” Laura said laughing.

“What are you talking about?”

“I’ve spent the last two weeks with basically everyone telling me to make a move and just as I was on the verge of doing just that, you take the moment away.”

“Sorry,” Carmilla said, but she didn’t look sorry. “I just couldn’t wait any more.”

“Yeah, no. I get that. These last two weeks have been agonizing.”

“You have no idea, Cupcake.”

Laura couldn’t restrain her smile if she tried. “Want to go back to my house?”

“Yeah. Definitely.”

Laura grabbed Carmilla’s hand, and before they re-entered the hall, she leaned in and gave Carmilla a kiss because she could. Or at least she thought she could. They hadn’t actually settled anything besides mutual interest.

“What’s wrong?” Carmilla asked when Laura pulled back.

“Nothing.”

“Laura, I’ve been watching you for the last two months. I know it’s not nothing.”

Laura sighed. She didn’t want to ruin the night they’d had, but she was also really insecure. She had just made out with Carmilla Karnstein, and despite everything her heart was telling her, she couldn’t just shut off the doubt in her head.

“Just so I know where we stand… I mean, everyone thinks you’re my girlfriend—“

“What do you think?”

“Really?” Laura asked.

“Of course,” Carmilla said, grabbing the back of her neck with her free hand. “I’ve had this massive crush on you for months and there’s nothing I want more than to be with you. And I’m not keen on sharing you with anyone else. So what do you say?”

Laura pulled her into a crushing hug that only a Hollis could deliver. “Of course,” she said, kissing her quickly on the lips.

“Are you feeling better now?” Carmilla asked, a smirk playing on her lips.

“I’m good,” Laura answered. “Now let’s get out of here.”

 

Laura woke up the next morning as she had most mornings in the past week—fully clothed but entangled in Carmilla’s limbs. The difference this morning was the lack of insecurity or awkwardness in waking up that way.

Carmilla was her girlfriend. They had celebrated that fact for a few hours last night without letting it get too far. She couldn’t speak for Carmilla, but she really didn’t want to go there in her childhood bedroom with her father a couple of doors down. That didn’t stop them from having fun though, and she couldn’t help the smile on her face as she tried to extract herself from Carmilla’s arms, which were wrapped around her waist underneath her shirt.

Laura made it downstairs just after eleven, just like she had that first morning home. Her dad was downstairs watching the Rose Parade with Vivian. Laura didn’t want to dwell on what that meant, not when she was so deliriously happy. She poured herself a coffee and joined them on the couch.

“Looks like the rest of your night went well,” her dad said, pointing to her neck.

Laura’s face went bright red and she reached up to touch a sore spot in that space where her neck and shoulder met. She was too mortified to say anything while simultaneously enjoying the memory of Carmilla’s lips and tongue and teeth on that very spot.

“I’m guessing you took my advice,” her father said.

“Not quite. She beat me to it,” she said, unable to hide her smile.

“Right,” Bill said. “I guess I should start prepping for The Talk for when she wakes up, huh?”

“Dad.”

“Laura, you’re my only child—“

“Dad!”

“Oh stop teasing her, Bill,” Vivian said. “You’ve talked of nothing else than your wish for Laura and Carmilla to get together since they got to Wooster. Don’t go for the clichéd over-protective father bit now.”

“Thank you, Vivian,” Laura said, winking at her father.

He didn’t tease her again, though the smile he gave her when Vivian was distracted by the parade was one of pride and happiness and even relief, and it meant everything to Laura.

Carmilla joined them twenty minutes later, standing awkwardly at the entrance of the family room as if considering where she should sit. Her hair was a mess and Laura had to restrain herself from reacting to how sexy she thought she was in that moment. Laura shook her head and then beckoned her girlfriend over to her side of the sectional. And when she sat down, Laura wrapped her arms around Carmilla’s waist so that Carmilla’s only option was to throw her arm over Laura’s shoulder. Laura hoped Carmilla was okay with cuddling in front of Laura’s father, but when Carmilla grabbed Laura’s mug and took a drink, Laura assumed she was fine. Until she nearly spat Laura’s overly sweetened coffee out. Thankfully, Vivian rose to get Carmilla her own mug.

 

They returned to campus four days later, after a remarkably comfortable visit. Bill only teased Carmilla for a short while until she shut him up by inviting him and Vivian to Styria to drive her car. Classes didn’t resume until Thursday, so campus was quiet when they returned early Wednesday afternoon, which was more than fine with the occupants in room 307, who were taking their time getting to know each other in a completely different way.

They were on Carmilla’s bed as it neared dusk on Wednesday evening, where they’d been for a couple of hours, from the moment they walked through their dorm room door. Turns out the seven hour car ride back, along with the entirety of their semester break—especially since New Year’s Eve—was just one agonizing amount of foreplay, and now that they were finally in their own space and had a bit of privacy, the floodgates were blown wide open. Laura was on her back, naked, grasping onto the bed sheets and making noises she’d never made before, while Carmilla’s head was ensconced between her legs. And, by the sounds she was making, Carmilla was enjoying herself equally as much.

Somewhere near the half-way point of their drive back to campus, Laura sent Perry a text to tell her they were on their way back. But that had been hours ago, and Laura had been distracted from the moment she parked her car in their dorm’s parking lot. She didn’t hear the texts that Perry and LaFontaine sent, and she missed the group chat that also included Danny. She didn’t know her friends were trying to get together before the craziness of the spring semester began and to talk about their holidays. And she’d forgotten in her sexed up bliss that her friends tended to panic easily.

As Laura brought her hands to cradle Carmilla’s head, their door flew open. It wasn’t until they heard, “Hey, Laur!  What the—,” followed by an “Oh my!” in a different voice that they registered the intruders’ presence. Carmilla grabbed the sheet that had bunched around her waist and quickly threw it over her head to cover Laura’s body and then moved up closer to Laura’s head. Laura lay still on the bed speechless and equal parts blissfully flushed and mortified.

“What is wrong with you people?” Carmilla growled. “Have you forgotten how to knock?”

“I did knock,” LaFontaine said, while Perry covered their eyes with her hand. “But it sounded like Laura was in distress and she’d ignored all our texts and, shit. Sorry.”

“Definitely not in distress,” Laura said, finding her voice while unable to look LaFontaine or Perry in the face.

“Yeah, I got that,” LaFontaine said.

“Then why are you still here?” Carmilla asked, her voice dripping with contempt. It was a voice Laura hadn’t heard since they were at the mall on Christmas Eve but that she’d heard so often in this room.

“Give us a little privacy, guys?” Laura said before LaFontaine could respond or Carmilla said more.

“Yeah, sure, Laura,” Perry said. “Just let us know when we can try this whole thing again.” And then she added, “It was good seeing you again, Carmilla,” before she dragged LaFontaine out of the room and closed the door behind her.

“You okay?” Carmilla asked in that soft voice Laura had grown accustomed to.

And then Laura laughed and kissed Carmilla. It was sloppy and not the least bit romantic, but it was perfect. “I’m actually okay. I’m not looking forward to seeing them again just yet, but at least now I don’t need to figure out a way to tell them that I’m super into my roommate.”

Carmilla smiled. “I’m not sure the curly ginger is going to recover very quickly.”

“You’re probably right,” Laura sighed. “And I suppose I should get up and see what they want.”

“No,” Carmilla groaned. “Don’t leave.”

Laura gave her a quick peck on the lips and then sat up and threw her legs over the bed. “You can always join us. Make sure I don’t have face the firing squad alone?”

“I’m not sure your friends would welcome that, Cupcake,” Carmilla said in a vulnerable voice.

“No better way to find out. They’ve got to get used to you as much as you have to get used to them,” she said, standing up without making any effort to cover up, and she blushed when she saw the hunger in Carmilla’s eyes.

“I’m going to take a quick shower.” She got to the door and turned around. “You gonna join me?”

Carmilla scrambled out of bed as quickly as she could and joined her girlfriend by the door. “What about your friends” she asked.

“They can wait and wonder a little while longer. Besides, they probably wouldn’t mind more recovery time.”

Carmilla smiled, and Laura kissed her like there was nothing else she’d rather be doing in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading my Christmas story in the middle of summer. And thanks for taking a chance on me: this completely unknown author in the fandom. I've had a few people ask about a sequel. Thanks for that. That must mean you like what I'm doing. I have nothing planned but know that the Mrs. is really bugging me for some kind of follow up. I make no promises though. Thanks again, especially to anyone who left a comment or gave me kudos or subscribed to this fic.


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